Echoes of the Amplifiers
by CharWright5
Summary: Sequel to "Sing Me Anything". Kendall Knight didn't expect to enjoy that James Diamond concert, much less have a connection so intense it confused him. Now he's left trying to figure out if what he felt was real, and how to feel it again with an international pop star.
1. Post Concert Depression

_**A/N:** Okay, this is obviously a sequel, meaning you should read my oneshot "Sing Me Anything" in order to understand this. This will be a full-length, multi-chaptered fic, not another oneshot, because I have too many ideas and scenes in my head for it to just be one chapter._

_Shout-out to everyone who reviewed "Sing Me Anything". You guys seriously made my life with your words. Hopefully this fic lives up to your expectations._

_Not entirely sure where it's going, but it's rated M for language and adult themes, for now._

_Not sure when/how often this will get updated. Pretty much just whenever I have something written and I feel it's perfect enough to share._

_Oh, and story title from "Turn the Page" by Metallica, because it's amazing. Please don't sue!_

_Anyway, enjoy "Echoes of the Amplifiers"! Lemme know whatcha think of it :)_

* * *

Kendall Knight had a problem.

It started a month ago when he was dragged to a James Diamond concert by his best friend, Carlos Garcia. It wouldn't have been that big a deal really, shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't his thing. He hated pop music. He hated top 40. He was more into metal, into hardcore, into bands like Metallica, Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu, Killswitch Engage and the like. He spent more time making fun of James Diamond than actually listening to his music.

But it changed with one look.

His eyes had met the pop star's across the way, when James had gone into the crowd during one of his songs. His hand had touched the singer's, feeling a spark, a warmth going up his arm and throughout his body. Shit only got worse when James chose Kendall to join him onstage, when the pop star serenaded the teenager, their eyes locked and their hands clasped. The world had melted away, Kendall feeling like it was just the two of them, nothing else mattering but that moment with that male.

Worst part, was that Kendall was convinced James had felt the same way during that song. Five minutes, maybe even less, of the two having a connection so intense the blond couldn't even begin to understand it, much less explain it. But he didn't care.

Until he stepped off stage and headed back to his seat.

Sure, the rest of the concert was amazing, James putting on one hell of a show. But Kendall wasn't the same. He felt saddened, felt like he was missing something that he didn't even know he had before. And he felt like a huge fucking jackass.

He spent the drive home spacing out, ignoring Carlos' rambles, lost in his head. He kept telling himself he was a moron, that the singer did that all the time. It was a nightly occurrence for the pop star to bring a fan up on stage, to personally serenade them, to probably have that same connection with those other fans. Kendall wasn't anything special. He was just another face in the crowd.

But that didn't stop the obsession from starting.

He'd googled the singer the next day, checking out fansites, learning all he could. He told himself that he was trying to find a reason to hate him, that he was looking for something that pissed him off, that turned him off, that would be a justification for shoving away the previous night and everything that had to do with James Diamond.

He found nothing.

Everything he came across made him like the other male more, especially when he found shit they had in common. Which, in all honesty, pissed Kendall off. He didn't want similarities, he didn't want them to have those common interests that could lead to conversation, or even more.

He sure as fuck ignored links and stories about the first male fan James Diamond brought on stage. He didn't need to see pics of it.

Next step was downloading his music. In secret, of course.

Day after that, he checked out the singer's twitter. Huge mistake, especially when he came across one about the St. Paul concert.

"_Best show ever! Had so much fun, can't even believe it. STP will always hold a special place in my heart now. Can't wait to get back there._"

Kendall felt his heart pound, his stomach flutter at that, unable to prevent the hope that had risen inside of him that maybe it was because of him, that maybe James had enjoyed himself, had enjoyed the show because of the blond, because of the connection they shared. He started thinking once more that maybe it wasn't one sided, that maybe it wasn't just him who had felt all those things.

He started a second Twitter just to follow James and related fan feeds. He felt like a moron, felt like an idiot, felt like he was overreacting, not to mention he felt like a fraud. He was still poking fun at the singer, still making the same jokes, still calling him a fairy, a pussy, a lameass, when secretly, he was listening to that stupid fucking love song every night when he went to sleep.

A week later, he joined a fansite messageboard. Then another. Then Tumblr. That's when he knew he was in deep, when he could no longer claim he was looking for reasons to hate the guy, when he finally accepted that he was an actual fan. Not that he told anyone. Carlos and Katie still had no clue, and everyone on those sites knew him as Kenny from somewhere in Minnesota.

He was asked if he was at the show in St. Paul, if he saw the guy that was brought onstage, if he knew the guy. He never denied that he was there, but he lied his fucking ass off about knowing the male fan. He didn't need people treating him different, prying into his shit, trying to figure out what was going on there, if anything. He knew the female fans who were brought onstage and who shared their stories were constantly asked about it, bugged to the point where Kendall knew if it were him, he'd flip a shit and bitch someone out. But none of these fans online knew the real him, knew he was actually some metal head high school senior. He never reblogged anything else, only James Diamond related shit.

Including pics of himself onstage.

Okay, he didn't reblog those, but every time they showed up on his dash, every time he stumbled upon them in the tags, he had that same fucking reaction that he had when he was actually on the stage. And as he stared at those photos, blew them up, zoomed in, analyzed every little thing about them, he started seeing new things, seeing shit that helped convince himself that he hadn't imagined shit, that there had been a connection, and that James had felt it, too.

The fact that he never brought another male up on stage spoke volumes about that.

But then the more negative side of him would take over, that inner-voice telling him that he really is imagining all of it, that he's only seeing shit there because he wants to, that it's all wishful thinking. He'd start believing that he was overreacting, overanalyzing, creating things that weren't there just to make himself feel better, feel like he wasn't a freak. He was just feeding his denial that he was just another fan to James, giving in to the fantasy that he was something special, that while millions of girls—and possibly some guys—were out there idolizing him, the only one James cared about was Kendall.

Guy could dream, right?

And dream he did. He dreamt about those moments on stage, of feeling James' hand on more than just his palm or fingers, of finally being able to get to know the real James—both literally and biblically—of having everything he wanted right in front of him and knowing that he wasn't just making shit up in his head.

He'd wake up cold and empty, something easily remedied by pulling out his iPhone and rewatching the video of him onstage with James during that concert, a video he totally just happened to stumble upon and totally didn't go researching for. Totally.

But no matter what, Kendall knew he was in too deep. He could no longer deny that he was a fan, that he had a crush on the pop star. He could definitely deny how deep his feelings went, refusing to believe he was one of those delusional nitwits that seriously thought they had a chance at a happily ever after with the celeb.

But just because he didn't believe it, didn't mean it wasn't true.

So he spent his days torn between elation and depression, smiling at those remembered moments, then frowning at the fact that they were over, never to happen again.

Until dates were released for a fall tour. Ones that included another show in St. Paul. Ones that included a special meet and greet package.

Kendall knew he had to go. It was a need, not a want. He needed to see if it was possible to have those moments again, that it wasn't just a one-time thing, that it wasn't a combination of the adrenaline, the song lyrics, the atmosphere, the situation creating something that wasn't real. He needed to know that he wasn't fucking crazy.

Okay, maybe he was a little bit crazy, because he was seriously buying VIP tickets to a fucking pop artist's concert, spending a couple hundred dollars, two whole paychecks, for a two minute meeting and a hour and a half show full of music that wasn't even his fucking style. But he needed answers that fucking badly.

Plus he had the perfect fucking excuse so why not use it?

He kept telling himself that as he stared at the open email on his laptop screen confirming his order, kept repeating that excuse in his head. It wasn't about him. It wasn't for himself or because he was actually a fan—which he was still denying that he was—but because of that excuse he was gonna use.

Right. Yeah. Totally believable.

He was fucked.

"Kendall! Dinner!" His mom's voice snapped him out of it, brought him back to that moment.

He yelled back a quick "coming!" before re-reading that email for the fifth time in a row. He took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks before blowing the air out, closing his laptop as he stood up. He had his arguments in place, knew exactly what he was gonna say, had a comeback for every comment his mom would make. And while he felt like a total lunatic for talking to himself alone in his bedroom, he'd long since accepted that he was slowly going insane anyway. This was just further pushing him towards the Nut Hut.

Dinner wasn't anything too special, just chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. His younger sister Katie was already sitting at the table when Kendall walked into the dining room, his mom dishing the food out. She gave him a smile as she put a full plate in front of his usual seat, greeting him with a "hey, sweetie" as he hitched up his pants and sat, wallet chains rattling against the wood chair.

He poured himself a glass of lemonade, complimenting on how good everything smelled, letting out an "mmm" when he finally took a bite.

Which made his mom suspicious as hell.

She looked at him with a manicure eyebrow raised, skepticism clearly written on her face. And all right, he could admit, he was never all this complimentary, never said anything about the meal other than "thanks". So him saying something now clearly meant he was up to something.

Which he totally wasn't.

Kinda.

Whatever.

"Okay," she started, putting the dishing spoon back in the bowl of green beans, serious expression on her face as she looked at her son. "What are you after?"

"What?" he feigned offense, acting like he was unable to believe she'd accuse him of such a thing. Even though it wasn't the first time this had happened and like the other couple dozen times it happened, he truly was after something. "Nothing."

"Uh huh." The disbelief was still there as she unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. "And why should I believe you?"

"You shouldn't," Katie butted in, Kendall narrowing his eyes at the eleven year old. "Oh come on, Kendall. You play this game every time you want something you know Mom will say 'no' to."

"Well, I _was_ hoping to ask her about something," he started, only to get interrupted with his mom's "Oh, here we go again". He turned to her, innocent expression on his face. "But it's actually something for Katie."

Now both Knight females were in disbelief, letting out a synchronized "What?"

"Well, her birthday is in a month or so, right?" Simultaneous nods from the females. "And she was upset about missing the last James Diamond concert..." He trailed off.

Katie's eyes widened, face lighting up as she sat up straight in the chair, obviously getting the hint. Her head snapped to their mom, loosely curled brown hair swinging with the movement. "Mom, can I go?"

Their mom looked nervous, hand smoothing back her red hair, a sigh leaving her and slumping her shoulders. "I dunno, guys."

"I'll be with her the entire time," Kendall promised. "We'll go straight there and straight home, I'll keep an eye on her at all moments, make sure she's safe and hydrated."

The mother's lips twisted in thought, clearly seeming to be considering it.

"I already bought the tickets. They come with meet and greet passes and are non-"

"Wait a second," Katie interrupted, skepticism back on her face. "You bought the _VIP package_? For _me_?"

"Well, you _are_ my baby sister," he replied with a smile.

"Right, and you don't love me nearly enough to spend that kinda cash on me," she argued. "Just admit it, you wanna meet the guy, too."

Kendall didn't bother telling her that he'd already met "the guy". So far he'd managed to keep it from her that he was picked to go onstage—thank god she wasn't allowed online all that much—and he wasn't about to change that. Mostly outta fear of personal injury.

So instead, he just rolled his eyes, playing it off, acting like his little sister was out of her mind with the insinuation that he'd want anything to do with James Diamond.

"I hear you singing in the shower, Kendall," she pointed out, scooping up a forkful of mashed potatoes. "It used to be all that screaming crap you like. Now it's James Diamond song's. And I also saw your background on your laptop."

Oh fuck. He knew putting that live pic of James from the St. Paul show as his desktop was a bad fucking idea, no matter how fucking hot and boner inducing he was covered in sweat, collarbone showing through that v-neck, hair shoved back, face full of emotion as he belted out a song. Really fucking stupid.

Wait, what the fuck? Why was Katie using his laptop?

"When were you using my laptop?"

"Ha! So you don't deny the singing in the shower or having that picture?"

Shit. Busted.

He sat back in his seat, stabbing at his chicken with his fork, feeling defeated. Until he figured something out.

A smirk came to his face as he looked down at his plate. "Look, if you have an issue with me wanting to go, I could always just invite Carlos to come with me instead."

"What?" Her cry came out as a squeal, one of those rare moments where he was reminded that she was actually eleven and not thirty-three.

Kendall shrugged, lips turned down, playing it all off and acting like it was no big deal as he cut into his chicken breast. "You just don't seem to be overly enthused with this. Plus I don't think Mom's on board with the plan either."

Katie's head whipped to the elder Knight female, a high pitched whiny "Mom!" leaving her lips.

"All right, enough!" their mother called out, hands out to the side. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her red hair once more before turning to her son. "You promise to keep an eye on your sister the _entire_ night?"

Kendall resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing it wouldn't do him any favors. He wasn't the best son in the world. He talked back, swore too much, got drunk on weekends, was busted with pot in his room, played his music too loud, got in trouble at school—the list went on. And while he picked on his li'l sister, called her names, and made fun of the things she liked, he still liked to think he was a responsible older brother that always looked out for his baby sister, took care of her, made sure nothing happened to her.

"Yeah, I promise."

Another sigh as she looked back and forth between Kendall's expectant look, his eyebrows raised, and Katie's puppy dog face with her eyes wide. "All right, fine. But you go straight there and straight home. No screwing around, no going anywhere else, no hanging out with anyone after, okay?"

Kendall felt his heart start pounding, his stomach fill with huge ass Jurassic Park type butterflies, chest tightening. The excitement was overwhelming, the anticipation of not only a concert, but meeting back up with the male who'd been plaguing his mind for the past month. In a few weeks, he'd finally get answers to all the questions that had been driving him crazy, finally resolve all those issues and close the James Diamond chapter of his life.

Katie let out a squeal as she hopped out her seat and practically bounced over to their mom, hugging the elder female tight, something which took their mother by surprise. Kendall turned his head away, looking down at his plate and putting a piece of chicken in his mouth, trying to hide the huge smile that was threatening to break out over his features.


	2. Admitting It Is the First Step

_**A/N: **__Okay was debating all day if I was gonna post this or not. Was hoping for a couple more reviews on chapter one (since "Sing Me Anything" got 20 and this only got 7, but whatever), then last night's livestream of WooHooPittsburgh made me wanna post this. Then I was having a really shit day which is pointless of me to point out but whatever. Anyway, decided to post this because I've come to the conclusion that I'm gonna die on August 29th when I see BTR in person so might as well post this so you guys have something to remember me by._

_This starts off slow, but it'll pick up eventually. Just gotta establish a bunch boring stuff so bear with me._

_All bands mentioned are properties of themselves. And (I can't believe I'm saying this)...song credit: "Baby" by Justin Bieber...urgh...  
_

_Shout out to everyone who reviewed chapter one! Love y'all! XOXOX_

_Enjoy chapter two!_

* * *

Getting his mom on board with this plan was easy. Breaking the news to Carlos? Not so much.

The Latino had provided the perfect discussion starter though, when he came over to the Knight house, slamming Kendall's bedroom door open without even bothering to knock. It had scared the shit outta the blond, who'd been laying on his bed with an unplugged electrical guitar on his lap, strumming along to A Day To Remember as "The Plot to Bomb the Panhandle" blasted through his iHome speakers. But the door being thrown open like that, revealing a very pissed off looking Carlos, had caused Kendall to bolt upright, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Carlos? What the fuck?"

The smaller male didn't say a word, just continued to glare, bottom lip turned down in a pout, eyes practically black in anger. "_I know._"

Just two words, spoken in a low, dark tone, seeming incredibly ominous. Confusion momentarily washed over Kendall as he tried to figure out what exactly the Latino was referring to, only to come up with one answer.

Carlos knew about the James Diamond tickets.

How? Kendall hadn't a fucking clue, but it was the only thing he could think of, the only thing he had done that would piss Carlos off. The smaller male would wanna know why Kendall did that, why he hadn't bought tickets for his best friend of twelve years, why he was being so "mean". And the blond had his reasons, mainly the cost of the fucking things. And yeah, he could've afforded just three regular tickets, no meet and greet included, but that wouldn't have done anything to help the elder male out. He needed answers, not more confusion and sexual frustration caused by seeing the singer live.

But there was always a chance that Carlos didn't know, that Carlos was still as clueless as he always was, so Kendall played dumb, keeping that confused look on his face as he shook his head. "'Litos, what the fuck are you talking about man? What the hell do you know?"

The glare on Carlos' face went away, the small male's features lighting up as he smiled wide, practically bouncing into the bedroom. "Nothing," he replied as he closed the door, sounding as bubbly as ever. "Just messin' with ya."

Kendall rolled his green eyes, wondering what the hell the point of all that was, as relief flooded him. His best friend wasn't actually pissed. He hadn't found anything out. But he was going to eventually, especially if he called and asked if Kendall wanted to hang the night of the concert, during which the blond would either have to tell the Latino or come up with some really good fucking excuse. Family night didn't work, since he skipped most of that shit anyway, and he rarely ever got ill so he couldn't fake being sick. Maybe if he started thinking now, he'd had a good lie in two weeks, when the show happened.

Yeah, right.

Carlos bounded in, flopping himself down onto his back on Kendall's bed, smirk still on his face, clearly pleased he'd tricked the elder male. Which the blond was gonna hafta change.

"You're right, 'Litos," he started, putting his guitar to the side and leaning it against the nightstand. "You really do know nothing." A smirk of his own was on his face as he turned to his best friend, patting his thigh a couple times.

The earlier pout came back as the song changed to Bleed the Dream's "Confessions", something which Kendall was not about to participate in. Carlos' face scrunched up, not a fan of the kind of music his best friend loved. Which was kind of an obvious thing, considering how the blond was dragged to a James Diamond concert, something which he was still pretending to be pissed off about.

"I can't see how you can listen to this stuff," the Latino commented, disgust in his voice. Carlos never hated things, but he had no problem with "disliking stuff _a lot_ a lot".

Kendall simply rolled his eyes, laying back on his bed once more, arms folded under the back of his head. "Because this kind of music actually has meaning to it, the lyrics actually talk about shit that matters, about shit people are going through and can relate to, lyrics that hit something deep inside of you and make you realize that you aren't the only person in that dark place, going through all that bad shit."

Carlos snorted.

"Until the day someone tells me the words '_oh baby baby baby, oh_' have changed their life for the better, I'm sticking with what I said."

"Hey!" the smaller male immediately sat up, turning his torso to point at the taller one. "That's a good song!"

"It's a piece of pop shit, like everything else you listen to. I'm surprised you haven't completely rotted your brain with that crap."

"And I'm surprised you haven't busted an ear drum listening to all that screaming."

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said I-" Carlos cut himself off, playful glare on his face as he saw Kendall's smirk and realized the blond was fucking with him. Grabbing a pillow, he whacked his best friend's chest with it, causing the elder male to laugh. "Asshole!"

Kendall just kept laughing, curling his legs to his torso and holding his arms up to protect himself as Carlos continued to hit him with the pillow.

"That's. Not. Funny," he stated, accentuating each word with a blow.

"Yeah, it is," the elder teen argued, still smirking proudly. "You're just pissed 'cause it happened to you. Had you done it to me, you'd've thought it was hilarious."

"Well, duh!" Another blow, mussing up Kendall's hair. "But I didn't do it. So, it's not funny." More hits.

The blond kept laughing as he took the whacks, glad the smaller male was holding the open end of the black pillowcase. He didn't need his pillow slipping out with each blow, only to go flying back on an upswing and knocking over a lamp. He'd broken enough shit in this room, his mom clearly not too stoked about any of it.

But the laughter died and the hits stopped when the song changed, an all too familiar piano piece starting before those vocals joined in.

Kendall's green eyes widened, his body tensing in fear as he looked up at his best friend. Carlos' own eyes were wide, his in shock and confusion, mouth hanging open like an idiot. The blond scrambled up and across his bed, grabbing the iPhone from the dock and hitting pause after the first line was sung. But it was too late. He'd been busted.

"Oh. My god," Carlos started slowly, a laugh of disbelief bursting out. "Was that—Dude!"

The elder male couldn't turn around, couldn't face his friend, couldn't let the other teen see how red his face had gotten, how his hands were shaking, how his breathing had gotten shallow, as it always did when he listened to that song.

"You—no fucking way. No fucking _way_!" Carlos slammed the pillow against the bed on the last word for emphasis. "You seriously—whoa! You _actually_ have a James Diamond song on your iPod?!"

'_C'mon, Knight, think up a fuckin' lie, you idiot!_' his brain screamed at him, coming up with what he hoped was a good one soon after.

He shrugged as he hit skip, the shuffle function bringing up a Mudvayne track. He put the iPhone back in the dock, turning to his best friend. "I'm taking Katie to his show on the eighteenth and she's making me learn the lyrics so I don't 'embarrass her'," he lied with an eye roll, putting air quotes around the last two words.

Carlos wasn't buying it, his head slightly turned away, corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "Dude, just admit it. I was right. You became a fan after I took you a couple months ago."

A forced eye roll from Kendall, his pride refusing to let him admit the truth, much less admit that he'd been wrong.

"It's true!" Carlos exclaimed, bouncing in his spot, legs tucked under his body on the bed. "It's totally fuckin' true!"

"Believe whatever you want, 'Litos. Doesn't make it true."

"Uh huh." The Latino was clearly placating him, that small smirk still on his face for a few more seconds, before it was wiped away by another emotion. "Hey, dude, mind grabbing us some drinks? I'm thirsty."

And there it was. Carlos' ADD making itself known, thank fuck. Relief tugged at the corner of Kendall's lips, turning them up slightly, glad as fuck that the conversation was over, that the subject had been dropped and Carlos was still none the wiser about Kendall's little crush. Which was all it was.

Yeah, right.

"Sure, bud," the blond replied, patting the other male's thigh once again before getting up and leaving the room.

The kitchen was empty, unsurprisingly, with his mom at work and Katie vegging out in the living room watching some cop show and yelling at her Castle Smashers game, multitasking at its finest. Kendall grabbed a couple sodas from the fridge, heading to the exit before backtracking and grabbing a couple bags of chips as well.

He went back to his room, eyes on the snacks as he entered. "All right, 'Litos, grabbed up a couple cokes and some chips, too. Figured you'd be hungry." He raised his head, seeing his bed now empty, confusion on his face.

"Dude."

His head snapped to the left at the voice, seeing the younger male sitting at his desk. With Kendall's laptop open. And his music files on display.

Shit.

"Wanna tell me again how you only recently downloaded those songs? 'Cause according to the dates on here, you got 'em two days after the show we went to."

Double shit.

"I can explain."

Carlos turned in the swivel chair, arms folded over his chest, brow drawn. He looked like a villain in a spy flick—or at least he would if he wasn't wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a purple striped hoodie. Not exactly an outfit that strikes fear into anyone.

Kendall put the snacks and drinks on the desk, wiping his hands on his jeans to get rid of the condensation that had transferred from the sodas. He took a deep breath, holding his hands out in front of him. "Okay. Uh." He drew a black.

The Latino raised his eyebrows in expectation, still waiting on a good reply. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

The blond dropped his hands. "Yeah, I got nothing."

"Ha!" the younger male practically yelled, pointing a finger at the elder. "So I was right!"

The blond smoothed a hand over the back of his head, feeling the long locks there. "Yeah, I guess."

"I knew it!" Carlos shot up to his feet, that huge happy go lucky smile back on his face. "I knew that if you went to the show, you'd become a fan!" Then his face fell, confusion taking over. "But. You were, like, depressed during half of it, like you weren't having fun."

Kendall shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't at first. And yeah, towards the end, I was bumming. Nothing major."

The confusion was still there, the smaller male's eyebrows furrowed as his eyes turned to the snacks. Kendall had a feeling he wasn't even seeing them, that his mind was elsewhere. The guy looked like he was trying to actually figure out an algebra equation or which form of "there" to use.

"But what happened to-?" he trailed off, eyebrows slowly raising as realization dawned on his face. Lifting his head, he looked up at the taller male. "Is it because he took you on stage?"

Ohhh, they were _soooo_ not having _that_ conversation.

Kendall grabbed a soda around the top, turning away from his best friend as he walked over to his bed. "Let it go, Carlos."

"It is, isn't it?" the other male's voice was serious as he turned to face the taller male. "You just called me 'Carlos' and not 'Litos'. I gotta be right."

The elder male flopped onto his butt on the bed, propping one leg up on it, letting the other hang off the side, foot flat on the floor. "I'm not talking about it."

"Oh, I am _definitely _right, then," the younger walked over, sitting on the other side of the bed, legs tucked under him once more. "So, is it true then? All the rumors about you guys being secret lovers?" He wiggled his eyebrows, smirk on his face.

The blond rolled his head to the side to look at his friend, _'c'mon, get fuckin' serious_' written all over his face.

The Latino simply held his hands up in innocence. "Okay, okay. I didn't think that'd be true, but it would explain shit."

Kendall turned away, opening his soda. "Shit like what?"

"Like why you've been so down all the time, so moody. Like, worse than usual moody. And now, whenever James comes on TV or the radio or whatever, your insults are, like, half-hearted and lame and you get this sad look in your eyes." Carlos shrugged, bummed out look on his face as he stared down at the black comforter over the bed. He was like a sad puppy who'd been passed over by a family, still stuck in the cage at the adoption center. "I mean, if you two were together in secret, it would just make sense that you'd be acting that way, 'cause you'd be missing him."

The blond swallowed hard, staring down at his own lap, index finger flicking the edge of the tab on his soda can. He wasn't entirely sure what to say there, what to do, how to act. Usually his best friend was off being bouncy and spazzy and barely focused enough to know what someone had just said to him three times in a row. Kendall clearly didn't give the guy enough credit, considering how the younger male had picked up on the differences in the blond's behavior, even when he thought he'd done a damn good job hiding that shit.

"Think anyone else has noticed?" he asked lowly, still not acknowledging exactly what had been said.

"Nah," the Latino answered honestly. "Your mom's too busy working, Katie's always off doing her own thing. Plus, no one else knows you like I do."

Kendall nodded, taking it all in as he brought his soda to his mouth and drank. He mulled it all over, his thoughts and feelings over the past couple months, his best friend's words and observations he'd just spoken, his own reaction to those things being pointed out. Shit. He was in deeper than he thought he was.

Lowering his soda, he spoke, still keeping his voice low. "Is it weird that I _do_ miss him? I mean, nothing happened between us, but like-" He trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it, exactly what he was trying to say. Instead, he just breathed out a "fuck".

"I don't think nothing happened," Carlos stated, sliding himself down so his butt was on the bed, turning so he was against the headboard by his friend, legs stretched out in front of himself. "I mean, I saw the way he looked at you, how he got all, like, awed or something. It was like _he _was the starstruck one, ya know? And then watching the video of you being up on stage, I dunno, it's like there was a connection there and James looked like he was singing just to you, no one else, like you guys were in a bubble. He's never like that with any other fan he brings up there."

Kendall's eyes drifted closed, swallowing hard. It was exactly what he wanted to hear. He wanted to be told that it wasn't just him, that there really was something there, a connection, a spark, something. He wanted to be told he wasn't crazy, that he hadn't imagined it, that it wasn't some weird combination brought on by the song itself and the situation. He wanted to be told he was the only fan with that experience, that he was the favorite, the preferred one, that out of millions around the world, James had only had that with Kendall.

Carlos continued. "And then there's the fact that you're the only guy he's brought on stage. All the rest have been girls, despite rumors of him being gay."

"Yeah, but he's not," Kendall pointed out, eyes opening and staring straight ahead at his Senses Fail poster with the "Still Searching" art work on it.

"You keep saying he is."

"I'm making fun."

"And maybe a little wishful thinking?"

His eyes closed again, trying to control his breathing, hating the fact that his best friend knew him so well. "Carlos, please."

"I'm just sayin'."

"I know." He reopened his eyes once more. "But everything you're 'just saying' is everything I wanna hear and everything I've been thinking for the past two months." He turned his head to the right, seeing that his friend was already turned and looking at him, watching his reactions, analyzing them. "It's hard hearing them from someone else."

A sympathetic smile played on Carlos' lips, dark eyes turned down, that sad puppy look back on his tan face. "You got it bad, huh?"

Yeah, not going there.

"It's just a crush on a celeb," Kendall muttered, turning away and drinking.

"I don't think so. I think you're in denial, like you always are with feelings."

A long silent pause, the blond not wanting to admit the Latino was right, and the Latino knowing that's exactly what was happening.

"Is that why you're taking Katie to the concert?"

The taller male nodded, lowering his soda. "Also why I got us the VIP package."

"You're gonna meet him?! Again?!"

Kendall turned his head to see the mix of emotions on his best friend's face, a mix he couldn't—and didn't wanna—figure out. "Yeah."

"Dude! How could you not invite me?! I practically introduced you guys!"

"Because those tickets are fuckin' expensive, dude! Besides, it's for Katie's birthday. Plus you can buy your own if you wanted. You have a fuckin' job."

"No, I don't. Got fired again."

That stopped the blond short, eyebrow raised. "What'd you do this time?"

Carlos rolled his eyes, although whether it was at Kendall or the story behind his termination, the blond wasn't sure. "Apparently, you can't snack on the fries while you work. Can you believe that?"

The taller male snorted. "I can't believe you didn't learn that after being fired from the corn dog stand in the park this past summer."

"It's not _my_ fault they're so delicious."

Kendall let out a small laugh, amused at his friend. "Look, next time James Diamond comes to town, I'll take you. And maybe Katie also, depends on how much money I have. All right?"

"You won't need money. James'll give 'em to ya for free."

The eyebrow went up again. "What makes you say that?"

"'Cause he'll see you at that meet and greet, remember you immediately and remember that intense connection that you clearly had, then he'll fall madly in love with you and ask you to be his boyfriend right there on the spot. And it's only polite of him to send his boyfriend free tickets when he's in town. And tickets for his boyfriend's best friend of course."

The smile on Carlos' face was so big and bright that Kendall didn't have the heart to call him a moron and ask when he's coming back from that fantasy dream land he's clearly living in. Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, Kendall was kinda hoping for the same thing.

But instead, he just stared straight ahead, letting out a small "whatever you say, 'Litos" as he brought his soda can back up to his mouth. After all, they say if you speak your wish out loud, it wouldn't come true. The blond needed this one to come true.


	3. Dressed to Kill Maybe

**_A/N: _**_Okay, so...I totally don't remember what I was gonna say here but OMFG HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THAT PICTURE OF KENDALL GIVING JAMES A PIGGY BACK RIDE?! My shipping heart can't take it! Holy fuck! Oh and HAPPY FOX FRIDAY!_

_*ahem* Anyway, thanks to everyone for reviewing the previous chapter! I really really love each and every one of you! It means a lot. Especially to a select few of you who seriously made me fangirl with your sweet words (I'm sure you know who you are). And special shout out to Nath for her support, no matter how annoying I may be when it comes to my writing. And for actually liking Mopey!Kendall, even though the bastard makes me wanna punch him._

_Yeah, Kendall's still being a mopey bastard. Once again, bear with me for a couple chapters. I swear it'll get to the good stuff soon ;) But LOOK MORE PLATONIC KENLOS AREN'T THEY ADORABLE?!_

_Sherwood's Grocery is property of BTR the Show and Nickelodeon (I guess, I dunno). Don't sue! I don't own BTR, but if I did, I'd be in the middle of a James/Fox cuddlefest right now and Kendall would've disappeared somewhere in Belgium...which I know nothing about *cough*_

_Anyhoo, enjoy this chapter! Please lemme know whatcha think :D_

* * *

Kendall should've known by the look on Carlos' face that the Latino was up to something.

It was only two days later and he'd been on his shift at Sherwood's Grocery, retrieving abandoned shopping carts from the parking lot. Ones that, for whatever reason, were too hard and heavy for people to push the few yards towards a cart corral and instead just left in whatever empty parking space was convenient for their rude, selfish prick selves. Not that Kendall was angry about this or anything.

He let out a sigh as he shoved the sleeves of his black thermal shirt up to his elbows, his dark blue beanie perched on his head. He grabbed hold of a cart that was left literally in the middle of an aisle, hearing his name being yelled out excitedly. Turning around, he saw Carlos running over, huge grin on his face, arms flailing wildly. But he wasn't noticing the mischievous glint in those dark eyes or the devious smirk on his best friend's face. The blond was too busy trying to figure out what the white fabric flying around in the Latino's hand was.

Carlos skidded to a halt in front of Kendall, free hand flying up to the top of his head to hold onto his helmet. After a brief expression of "whoa!" spread across his face, before that previous look of being up to no good came back, causing the blond to raise an eyebrow.

"'Litos," he greeted the shorter male. "Any particular reason why you came running up like your ass was on fire, screaming my name?"

"I got something for ya!" the younger teen replied, bouncing in place, huge smile on his face.

Kendall looked around the lot, not seeing any other people, before turning to look at the grocery store itself, hoping like hell his boss didn't happen to walk by any of the windows or decide to come outside and check up on his employee. The blond had had enough warnings about his friend loitering and chatting while he was technically supposed to be working. "Sherwood's is for buying and selling groceries, not for fraternizing." Kendall had that speech memorized at that point.

Turning back to his friend, he let out a sigh. "And this couldn't wait 'til my shift was over?"

"Nope!" Carlos just keep grinning up at his best friend.

A long pause, the blond waiting impatiently. Finally, he realized he'd have to remind the Latino of what happens next. "You gonna give it to me or-?" he trailed off, shaking his head in confusion.

"Oh! Right!" He unfolded the white fabric, holding it up so Kendall could see it properly. It was a t-shirt, one custom made with "The Only Guy James Has Brought Onstage" printed in huge letters.

The taller male's eyes went wide as he grabbed the shirt, practically ripping it from his friend's hands, balling it up as he looked around to make sure no one saw.

"What? You don't like it?" There was the puppy look again.

"No, it's not that." He let out a sigh as he turned to his best friend. "It's just. Katie doesn't know. _No one_ else knows, except you and me, that I was that guy. And I'd kinda like to keep it that way."

"Why?" Carlos' face scrunched up in confusion. "You embarrassed?"

"Extremely." Although whether he was embarrassed at being a metal head who'd been onstage with a pop star, or the fact that his best friend had made up a t-shirt to immortalize that moment, he wasn't sure.

Carlos shrugged, happy go lucky attitude still there. "I just figured it'd help James remind him who you are. Not that I think he'd forget that, but it's better just to be safe."

Kendall smeared a hand over his face, knowing his buddy only had the best intentions in mind, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted. "Yeah, thanks. But I think I'll wear something else."

"Like what?"

He shrugged, honestly not really having thought about it. "I dunno. Probably a t-shirt and jeans."

The look of horror on Carlos' face was like someone had told him exactly what corn dogs were made of and what he'd been eating so much of over the years. "Dude! You can't just wear a t-shirt and jeans! You gotta get all dressed up, look nice. Maybe get a haircut."

Kendall rolled his green eyes. "No way."

"You wanna impress him, right?"

"I impressed him before wearing a tee and jeans. It'll work again. Besides, that's who I am, a t-shirt and jeans guy. And if some other guy isn't into it or has a problem with it, then he's not the guy for me."

Carlos pursed his lips, head tilting from side to side as he conceded the point. "All right, but at least make it a nice shirt, not one of those weird bands you listen to."

"What did I just say, 'Litos?"

The Latino held his hands up in innocence. "What? You don't wanna scare him off with some creepy shirt with, like, clowns or blood or guns on it, do ya?"

Okay, maybe the smaller male had a point there, but still. Kendall wasn't gonna get all dolled up over some guy, especially not when it was some guy he wasn't entirely sure remembered him, much less felt the same way. And it was like he said, if James didn't accept him for who he was, metal band tees and all, he didn't want the guy. There was someone else out there in the world who would love Kendall for his band shirts and his jeans and his beanies. He wasn't changing for anyone.

A sigh left him as he adjusted his wool hat, looking at his friend. "Thanks for the shirt, 'Litos. I'll probably wear it to bed or something, just not to the concert, all right?"

The bright smile was back on Carlos' face as he bounced in place. "All right! Just as long as it isn't, like, thrown away or whatever. And maybe one day you can show it to James." He winked then ignored Kendall's eye roll.

"Right, sure," the blond placated. "But for now, I gotta get back to work. Some of us can actually keep a job."

That jab earned him a shove in the chest from the smaller male, he just chuckling as the Latino let out a "fuck you." The two exchanged "see ya later"s before Kendall shoved the shirt in the pocket of his burgundy apron, turning around to push the shopping cart to its proper home, Carlos walking in the opposite direction.

Maybe the blond _should_ figure out what he was gonna wear. Just in case.

* * *

He was turning into a chick. That's the only thing Kendall could come up with to explain all his weird behavior: his moodiness, his sudden enjoyment of love songs, his crying over some guy he'll never have.

His fashion crisis.

Because, honestly, he never gave a shit. He grabbed a pair of jeans, grabbed a t-shirt, made sure neither smelled or had a hugely noticeable stain on it, put 'em on. Benefit of practically living in denim and band tees: everything matched. He never had to worry about committing some sorta fashion felony or whatever. Not that he'd care even if he did. Clothing wasn't something he worried about.

Until that moment.

Standing in front of his closet, hands on his hips, scowl on his face, he blamed Carlos for his predicament. That, plus being the only guy in a house of females. Clearly their estrogen was rubbing off on him. Why else would he be staring at his half empty closet thinking about how he had nothing to wear, freaking out over that very fact, when he knew it wasn't true and that it wasn't that big a fucking deal.

But it was.

No, it wasn't.

It was.

_Oh, my fucking god, brain, are we seriously doing this shit again?_

_Yes._

_Fuck you._

Great, now he was arguing with himself again. Definitely losing his fucking mind. That's what pop music did to ya, fucked you up in the head, turned you into a huge moron who didn't know reality from fantasy, created voices in your head that debated with you constantly. He needed serious psychological help.

That, or delete those fucking songs off his iPod and stop listening to them.

That had his eyes widening and panic gripping his chest tight. Fuck, he was in way too fucking deep.

A knock sounded on his door and he let out a "c'min", still staring into his closet, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He heard the door open, heard muffled footsteps walk in, heard his mom's voice as she spoke to him.

"Hey, sweetie, just dropping off your—whoa!"

His head turned to her at her own cut-off, brow furrowed as he took in her surprised facial expression, her open mouth, her raised eyebrows.

She pointed around at the mess that was pretty much all over his room, the shirts that he had practically ripped off the hangers and tossed to unknown parts of his room, not really giving a shit where they landed, already having decided they weren't good enough. Which was really fucking stupid when he thought about it, considering he was gonna be around James for, what? Two minutes? It really didn't matter what he wore; he wasn't gonna stand out in any way. James wasn't gonna care.

He ignored the hurt that thought caused.

"What's all this?" his mom questioned, wide eyes turning to her son. "Why does it look like a hurricane blew through here?"

"Maybe it did."

"Kendall." Her tone was full of warning.

"I'm just looking for something to wear."

She stepped further into the room, placing the plastic laundry basket she'd been carrying on the bed before picking up a t-shirt, holding it up for her own personal inspection. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing," he lied, turning away, folding his arms over his chest.

"It must be something if you're actually caring about what you're wearing." She refolded the t-shirt, looking out the side of her eyes to see his reaction, gauge how he was feeling by his facial expressions.

Kendall forced out a snort, rolling his eyes as he turned his whole body towards her. "I don't."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow as she looked at up. "Uh huh."

He shrugged, playing like nothing was going on, refusing to admit to anything. Especially not to his fucking _mom_.

"So, you don't care about what you're wearing," she started, putting a now folded shirt on the bed and picking up a second one. "But you're going through your closet, throwing your clothes around, trying to find the perfect shirt? That about right?"

"Yep."

"For this non-occasion that you're not going to?"

"Also yep."

Done folding the second shirt, she put it on top of the first, grabbing a third one. "And you're lying to me because...?" She trailed off, looking out the corner of her eyes at Kendall once again.

"Because I'm a teenager and it's my job to," he completed the sentence, walking over to his bed and flopping onto his butt on it, back against the headboard, hands folded behind his head, ankles crossed as he stretched his legs out in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, adding the folded shirt to the pile and grabbing another, Kendall just watching. It was a routine they'd had pretty much his entire life, Kendall being a messy kid and growing into a messy teenager. He just didn't see the point in cleaning. His mom, however, was borderline OCD and would tidy up after him as soon as the mess was made, driving herself to the point of exhaustion. She clearly hadn't stopped the habit, now organizing the disaster area he had created in his room as he sat back and relaxed.

"This have anything to do with that concert you're taking Katie to?"

Shit, he really was fucking transparent, wasn't he? He used to be so fucking good at hiding shit. Not anymore apparently. Fuck.

His mom peeked out under her eyelashes, folding shirt number five, expectation all over her face. Although judging by the look in her eyes, she already knew the answer without him having to say it.

"It's okay, sweetie, you're allowed to have celeb crushes."

"I know, Mom." He tried to hide the exasperation, the attitude, in response to the completely fucking obvious statement she had just made. It was kind of a "duh" thing for her to say, but he was trying to actually behave and not be the usual rude jackass he tended to be during conversations he didn't wanna have, that way she'd have no excuse to turn around and tell him he couldn't go to the show.

"But picking out special outfits, trying to find the most perfect t-shirt? That's not really you."

"I know, Mom."

"Plus, I hate to say it, but-" she paused to sigh, adding shirt number six to the pile and grabbing number seven. "He's gonna be meeting countless fans at this meet and greet, not to mention the hundreds he's met before and the hundreds he'll meet after."

Kendall sat there silent as she drifted off to another pause, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He knew where she was going, knew what she was about to say. It was thoughts he'd had himself countless times, when the darker side of his head took over and he was consumed with the more depressive end of things, believing that he wasn't all that special and that he imagined the whole thing and James was off being a pop star and not thinking about some blond male he met at a show in Minne-fucking-sota.

"Look, I know it's nice to have dreams," she continued, still folding, not noticing the reaction Kendall was hoping he was hiding. "But I don't want you to get too carried away and too lost in these fantasies that you end up thinking they're real, only to be crushed when reality sets in and he doesn't notice you the way you want to be noticed."

Leave it to a mom to bring you crashing down to Earth with all the words you don't wanna hear, but know you need to hear 'em anyway. And it wasn't like Kendall hadn't had those thoughts. Just hearing 'em out loud really fucking sucked, especially given the way his heart started hurting and his vision started getting blurry.

Such. A. Chick.

He stared off at nothing as his mom made her way around the end of the bed, walking over towards him. He didn't move, didn't look at her as she gave a small, sweet smile and placed her hand on his shoulder in a tender way.

"I know it's hard to hear," she stated, he thinking that she truly had no idea, "But I'd rather you deal with the hurt of a fantasy bubble being burst by me, rather than by him. It'll be easier."

"It's just a crush, Mom," he replied, proud of the way his voice was even, firm. He almost fooled himself with it. "I know that. No biggie."

She nodded, seeming to take his word for it. "All right, sweetie." She walked away, letting her hand drift off his shoulder, heading over to the door. But before she left, she turned and pointed at the mess on the bed, authority on her face and in her voice. "But clean this mess up. Now. Or there will be no concert."

He kept the swear to himself as he got up, mockingly saluting her as he set about hanging the t-shirts back up and putting his laundry away. He wondered what threat she'd use after the show was over.

But mostly he wondered about how his own heart would be once it was done.


	4. Not An Addict Just Okay Maybe An Addict

_**A/N: **__Okay, so about halfway through proofreading this and I realized...I'm Camille. At least this version of Camille. So far, it's a good thing. Anyhoo, her username is from a Taking Back Sunday song, "Liar (It Takes One To Know One)" and just seems to fit her. Howard Jones, Shane Told, Buddy Nielsen, and Chester Bennington are all name dropped and are totally awesome and if you don't know who they are, I feel bad for ya._

_MSN is property of Microsoft and an awesome way to troll friends. (Hiiii, Nath! *angel face*)_

_Shout outs to everyone who's reviewed this. Love each and every one of yas!_

_And sorry, he's still mopey Kendall..._

_Enjoy the update :D_

* * *

His mother's words stayed with Kendall for days, repeating in his head over and over again, like the cliched broken record that it was.

"_He's gonna be meeting countless fans at this meet and greet, not to mention the hundreds he's met before and the hundreds he'll meet after._"

"_I don't want you to get too carried away and too lost in these fantasies that you end up thinking they're real, only to be crushed when reality sets in and he doesn't notice you the way you wanna be noticed._"

It was those words, plus the other negative thoughts his own brain created that put him in another depressive mood, one he pretended not to be in, one he hid from everyone around him. He didn't want anyone to think there was anything wrong with him, that anything was actually happening inside of him. Especially not his mom. Last thing he needed was her to feel bad for upsetting him or for her to realize she was right, that her son had more than just a li'l innocent crush on a celeb, that he was likely to actually get crushed when he's turned away. Because it wasn't gonna happen. Well, the getting turned away or ignored or treated like every other fan out there was gonna happen, but the getting crushed part. Because he knew all it was was just that, a harmless crush, one he'd had on countless people in the spotlight in years past. This wasn't any different.

God, his denial was so bad he couldn't even tell he was drowning in it.

Which was why he kept watching that fucking video. A couple different versions of it, from different angles. And, yeah, okay, he could admit it was really fucking sad that he was doing that, that he was basically feeding his denial and totally not helping himself in any way, shape, or form. He was like his own enabler—or maybe Youtube was. Either way, it wasn't healthy and he knew better. But he still did it anyway.

Yep, he was an addict. Although whether his addiction was to James or to his belief that there was something between him and the singer, he wasn't sure. Maybe both?

No matter what, he continued to give in to it, to feed his addiction by not only watching that video, but staring at pics from that night and from concerts since, by going on Tumblr and reblogging James Diamond related posts, by going on messageboards and seeing what people had said about the shows they'd recently gone to, and by hiding the entire thing from those closest to him.

Just like an addict would.

Which was probably why he was in his room in the dark, the only light source being the screen of his laptop, headphones in as he listened to that same James Diamond song—the live version, of course—over and over again, having ripped the audio off the Youtube video and made an MP3 of it. And damn if it didn't have the same effect on him then as it did the first time he heard it. His chest got tight, his heart started pounding, his stomach started flipping which probably pissed off the butterflies in it, and a shiver raced down his spine as the singer said his name.

"_Guys, give it up for Kendall!_"

He totally wasn't imagining the pop star saying his name for a different reason in a different, more husky, more desperate tone.

Okay, he really needed to stop that train of thought before it crashed, burned, and created a huge mess in his boxers.

His laptop beeped, helping aid his cause, a minimized window flashing along his taskbar at the bottom of his screen. His MSN messenger was blinking orange, meaning he had a new message. Clicking on it, he brought the window to the front, seeing he had a new IM from his friend Camille.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__10 days til ur concert! u xcited?!_

A smile spread across Kendall's face at that. Only ten more days and he'd be reunited with his—his brow furrowed as his thought stopped short. With his what exactly? It's not like he and James had any kind of relationship going on, besides an artist-fan one. And it wasn't like Kendall could say "his favorite singer", not when Howard Jones, Shane Told, Buddy Nielsen, and Chester Bennington were out there doing vocals for their respective bands.

Fuck knew Kendall didn't idolize James so that was out.

Shoving that mental conundrum aside, he focused on the current conversation he was supposed to be having with his friend.

_**Kenny:**__ excited doesn't begin to cover it_

Which was true. Sure, he was fucking stoked to go, couldn't wait to see what he knew was gonna be an amazing concert—both from his own past experience, as well as stories, pics, and videos he'd seen from those who'd already been to the dates on this current tour. Plus he was stoked to see James again, knowing this meet and greet would give the blond the opportunity to look the singer in the eyes, to touch his hand and see if that connection, that spark was still there.

But he was also scared shitless. What if it really _had_ been a one time thing? What if it _was_ just a mix of adrenaline, lighting, and lyrics? What if it _had_ been one-sided? What if it _was_ all in his imagination? Or worse.

What if James didn't remember him?

His downward spiral was interrupted by a new message appearing in the MSN window.

_**AddictForDramatics:**__ ik watcha mean. i couldnt sleep for a week wen i saw him last tour lol. Hows ur sleep?_

He smeared a hand over his face, green eyes going to the bottom right corner of his laptop screen. 1:20 AM. Camille was two hours behind, living in Cali, but knowing he was in Minnesota. The wonders of the internet. You could make all kinds of friends all around the world, in various countries, continents, and time zones. Friends who didn't know you were actually a metal head and your obsession with this pop star was a secret hidden from those who were physically around you.

Friends who had no idea you were the only guy ever brought onstage by said pop star.

Friends who were clueless about how deep you were in with the guy.

Fuck.

He finally typed a response.

_**Kenny:**__ no worse than usual. altho i'm sure that'll change when it gets closer to the concert date._

Wasn't that the fucking truth?

_**AddictForDramatics: **__lol. sounds accurate._

Kendall replied with a simple '_lol yup_', not entirely sure what else to say. He was dying to tell her the truth, dying to get it all out there. Sure, he'd met her on some messageboard, but over the past couple months of private messaging and IMs, he'd grown really close to Camille, feeling like she was a real friend, not just some random internet acquaintance. And she was blunt as hell, not the type to beat around the bush. If she had a thought in her head, you were gonna know it straight up, no sugarcoating. He wondered what she'd think of him and his situation, if she'd call him nuts or an obsessed weirdo or tell him to calm the fuck down and come back to reality. He'd sure as shit say that to anyone else who'd tell him, were the shoe on the other foot, so to speak.

Hell, he was already calling himself crazy and he'd actually gone through it, had experienced it firsthand.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__:O OMG I just realized! i finally get to see ur face in ur meet n greet pic! :D_

That had Kendall's eyes going wide. He'd totally fucking forgot that all those pics were more or less public property, that the password to see the pics was passed around Tumblr, that all the photos were posted on there, reblogged, edited, people cut out, all kinds of shit. Meaning people were gonna see the guy who'd been brought on stage during the St. Paul show at the meet and greet.

Fuck, he seriously hoped he wasn't the only dude there.

But shit what if he was? What if all those photos came out and he was the only guy there, or the only one with a girl who was clearly his li'l sis? 'Cause Camille knew he was taking his sister, so she'd be looking for a teenage looking dude with an eleven year old looking girl. And she'd find him. And find out that he was the guy who was brought onstage. And that he'd been lying to her this whole time.

Right, 'cause he didn't have enough to worry about going into this fucking thing.

Inhaling deeply, he puffed his cheeks up, blowing the air out in a harsh sigh before typing his response.

_**Kenny:**__dunno y u wanna see my ugly mug so badly  
**AddictForDramatics: **__i'm sure ur not ugly. just would be nice 2 put a face 2 the name ya know? all ur dps are of james._

Kendall didn't see anything wrong with that. Besides, having the much better looking singer as his display pic for all his secret accounts on Tumblr, Twitter, and MSN meant it was less likely anyone would figure out who he was, would realize he's the Kendall that was onstage with James at the St. Paul show. Or worse, one of his friends would find the accounts and figure out the truth. As far as Carlos knew, the blond was just into the music and it was a guilty pleasure. The Latino had no clue how big a fan Kendall actually was and the blond was keeping it that way.

Camille sent another message before he had a chance to reply.

_**AddictForDramatics:**__not that there's anythin wrong w/ that. just would be nice to see YOUR face for once.  
**Kenny:**__i getcha, but james is so much better to look at. esp in that pic._

And with that, Kendall's green eyes went to the display pic on the left side of his screen, a photo of James singing live. To Kendall. Brow furrowed as he hit a high note, hazel eyes soulful and locked onto Kendall's green ones. Well, they would be if the blond hadn't cropped the photo so it was just James' head and hand as he held the mike in front of his mouth. But the photo had become his avatar for every site that needed one. Because the blond clearly enjoyed torturing himself.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__Urgh! ik whatcha mean. he's 2 damn good lookin, i cant even handle it. & that pic is just...damn!_

"Damn" was one word to use in response to it, Kendall agreed mentally.

_**AddictForDramatics:**__that pic is what makes me think he's at least bi, if not fully gay_

That had Kendall's eyebrows shooting up again. Neither of them had discussed James' sexual orientation. Sure, it wasn't a secret that the blond was gay, he never really hid it, especially when he was making comments about how hot James was and how he wouldn't mind walking into his bedroom and finding the pop star naked and waiting in his bed. But it had never come up about what the two of them thought the singer was as far as gay, straight, or bisexual.

But now it was out there, Camille having randomly stated her opinion. And damn if Kendall wasn't gonna delve deeper into this topic, especially given the way she'd brought it up and what exactly it was she'd said.

_**Kenny:**__whaddya mean?_

He sat there, impatiently staring at the "_AddictForDramatics is typing a message..._" that was at the bottom of the MSN screen. His hands were folded in front of his mouth, elbows resting on the desk, right knee shaking up and down. He didn't know why he was reacting this way, why he was waiting on the edge of his seat—literally it seemed, scooting back on the swivel chair—why he needed to hear what she had to say as soon as possible. It's not like it would change anything. It was just her point of view on something neither of them really knew for sure. And, yeah, she was a good friend, and he did value her opinion and took everything she said seriously, but it's not like whatever she was typing was a be-all, end-all kind of thing.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a huge amount of anticipation and anxiousness as he waited for her response.

Which finally came after what felt like forever.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__we've all seen the videos and the photos. the way james was lookin at that kendall guy? it was like there was only those 2 there, not an arena full of thousands of fans. just him & that guy, a personal serenade for someone he was really into, that he really liked. u could practically see the sparks flying between them, see them fallin in love, if they weren't already._

Camille was still typing, so Kendall kept his response to himself, waiting for her to finish up before allowing himself to react in any way.

_**AddictForDramatics:**__plus when u compare that video to past vids of all the girls he's taken onstage, there's clearly a difference. james never lets go of kendall's hand, his eyes are locked on kendall's the ENTIRE time, he never looks away once. & that kendall guy doesn't look away either, he just keeps focused on james, like he isn't on stage with thousands of people staring at him. it's just them in their lil bubble. plus that's the only guy he's ever brought onstage, which makes me think that james is hiding his sexuality but for some reason he couldn't ignore this guy and had to be able to touch him in some way, even if its just hand holding onstage during that song_

Kendall stopped breathing. All he could do was just stare at the screen, reading what Camille had typed. Twice. Three times. Okay, maybe four, but who was counting?

_**AddictForDramatics: **__so yeah, judging by the way he was looking at kendall, which u can clearly see in ur dp, i think he's gay, maybe bi. maybe just kendall-sexual idk. but no matter what, he & that guy had a connection & I like to think that the 2 are secretly dating $ no one knows about it. cuz otherwise that's just heartbreaking._

The blond had no idea what the hell to say. Sure, Carlos had said something similar, about how the blond and the pop star had a connection and how it seemed to him that there was something there, words that Kendall had been dying to hear. But the Latino could've been making the whole thing up. Yeah, okay, he wasn't a liar, wasn't one to make shit up like that, but he would if it meant making his friend happy and trying to cheer up his pal that he'd said was bumming out recently.

But Camille had no clue that she was talking to that actual Kendall who'd been onstage, had no clue how the blond felt or that he had, in fact, felt that spark and that intensity. That was her honest to god opinion, being spoken to someone she thought had nothing to do with that situation. She had no reason to lie, to make shit up. If anything, she could've been a jealous fan and ranted about how she didn't see the big deal over some guy being on stage and how she didn't think that guy was special, that there was nothing there. Instead, she was gushing about how she felt the pop star was falling in love with the fan and how she hoped they were together.

Kendall wanted to kiss the girl. And he wasn't one for any sorta displays of affection.

But he also felt that earlier urge to confess everything, to tell her who he really was, to come clean about being a metal fan who was converted into being a James Diamond fan with a simple glance at the show, to inform her that he was that Kendall guy she'd been talking about.

But he didn't. He kept his mouth shut, just like he always did. Because he didn't want her treating him differently, because he didn't wanna deal with the millions of questions or the fangirl reactions or any of that bullshit. Sometimes it was easier to just keep quiet, no matter how hard it actually was.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__is it weird i kinda ship them? even tho they aren't actually together or anything like that?_

Kendall let out a small laugh, smearing a hand over the top of his head before typing his response.

_**Kenny:**__nah. cuz honestly? i kinda ship em too.  
**AddictForDramatics: **__really?  
**Kenny: **y__eah. u aren't the only 1 hoping there was sumthin there btwn em_

It was the most honest statement he'd made all night.


	5. Tonight Tonight It's On Tonight

_**A/N: **__Obligatory freak out over #WooHooWhiteHouse. Seriously though, James needs to stop with the ties. Just makes me wanna be tied up with them and...well you catch my drift._

_Um...okay, this is still a little slow but it's required build up, establishing characters, blahblahblah... It's all necessary boring stuff and it'll make more sense in later chapters. But the Kendall/Katie moments in this were cute in my eyes so *shrugs*_

_Xcel Energy Centre is property of itself (I guess, I really have no idea). Chapter title is from "Festival Song" by Good Charlotte.  
_

_Shout outs to all who've reviewed! Love each and every one of ya. Special shout out to Nath (again) for not having killed me and assuring me that she won't. Although I'm sure it's cause of the whole Masbabies thing and she wouldn't wanna be a liar, but ya know._

* * *

Kendall wasn't a doctor. That was for fucking sure. He still had to graduate high school, then go through college and med school, which wasn't fucking happening. He had no desire to be a doc. Not that he knew what he actually wanted to do for the rest of his life, but he sure as shit wasn't gonna deal with four more years of schooling for a career he had zero interest in.

Point was, he couldn't really diagnose anyone with anything. And sure, WebMD made it easy for people to figure out what was wrong with themselves, he wasn't about to put in any effort to look it up. Besides, he could use what limited knowledge he had and figure out for himself that he was freaking the fuck out.

Okay, not a professional diagnosis that any tool in a lab coat would give him, but it definitely defined what exactly the blond was going through. The only way to describe it really, other than some fangirl keysmashing thing, and he definitely wasn't a fangirl.

Maybe a fan_boy_, but definitely not a fan_girl_.

It started the night before, when he decided to sleep in a pair of boxers and that fucking shirt Carlos had given him. He told himself that he only wore it because he didn't wanna hurt his friend's feelings. After all, the guy had gone through all the trouble to have it made, it would be rude not to wear it, right? So yeah, totally not wearing it because it was a reminder that what had happened actually took place and that it wasn't a dream and that he really had been onstage with James Diamond.

Totally not that.

At all.

He barely slept, tossing and turning, anticipation and excitement coursing through his veins, causing his entire body to be restless, his mind to go through a million scenarios of what could happen the next day. By two AM, he'd had practically every possibility thought up, every potential way for things to happen, every conversation they could have. And he had his responses thought up for each one, how he'd react, what he'd say. There was nothing that could happen the next day that he hadn't already come up with a plan of action for.

And he woke up—after finally dozing off around three or so—thinking about those some scenarios, his anxiety having ratcheted up, getting the better of him. He started worrying about whether or not James would remember him, about how he'd react if the singer didn't recognize him, about what would happen if that same spark wasn't there again. He felt like a fucking drama queen, as the thought '_I'd fucking_ die _if he didn't remember me_' flashed through his head. He knew it was an impossibility. But it didn't stop the phrase from feeling somewhat true.

He showered, hoping to wash away all the negativity, trying to focus on the show itself. He was gonna be seeing one of his favorite singers in concert. He was gonna have a fun fucking time hearing those songs live, see those dance moves that drove him crazy via YouTube videos. Granted he might have to shield his sister's eyes for some of 'em. Nah, fuck that. She sees worse watching those cop shows she loved.

Kendall left the shower in a better mood, focusing on the excitement throughout breakfast, dealing with another lecture from his mom about safety, about watching over his little sister, about behaving and not doing anything stupid. He contained his eye rolling, knowing it wasn't too late for her to turn around and state he couldn't do. Not that he thought she'd punish Katie that way—Kendall still using the excuse it was for his sister's birthday the following week—but he wasn't about to take any chances.

He couldn't, however, stop his green orbs from turning to the ceiling when his mom brought up no staying after the show, no matter what.

"Why would we stay after?" Katie asked, innocence all over her face, once again actually seeming her age.

"Mom doesn't want us going to any after parties," Kendall explains, his sarcastic ways unable to be contained at that moment. "They may have clowns with helium tanks and we'll get high and kill brain cells."

"Kendall." His mom's voice was a warning and he held his hands up.

"Joking. No one huffs helium anymore." He shot up from his seat, putting his dishes in the washer, hoping to get away before his mom could get at him for his sarcasm. But no such luck.

"Oh, no. You sit right back down," she ordered, head practically rolling with attitude. "Katie, go to your room."

"But you're gonna yell at him."

"Katie!"

"Fine." The eleven year old sighed harshly, sliding off her chair and heading over to put her dishes away before doing as she was told.

The Knight mom stood there, hip cocked, arms folded over her chest. "We need to talk."

Kendall let out a sigh of his own, smearing a hand over his face before resting his forearms on top of the table.

"We gotta set some ground rules before you go anywhere with your little sister."

"Mom," he started calmly, evenly, hoping if he kept an even tone it would earn him some points and he could be dismissed sooner. "I know what to do, okay? Trust me."

"Uh huh." Her tone was as disbelieving as her facial expressions. "Right. Because over the past couple years, you've done nothing but earn that trust. What, with the sneaking out in the middle of the night, getting drunk and high, disappearing for entire weekends at a time."

Okay, she had a point, but Kendall wasn't gonna admit that. "I'm not gonna do that with Katie. I wouldn't let anything happen to my baby sister." And it was the truth. As much as he was a little shit himself, as much as he didn't give a fuck about what happened to himself, he cared about what happened to his sister. He loved her too much. That, plus his mom would legit kill him.

The Knight matriarch sighed, running a hand through her red hair. "Fine. But just know that if anything happens to her, you are beyond dead."

"I know." With that, he got up and finally put his dishes away, heading back to his room.

Carlos' first text came in about noon, stating how long until the show, all in caps, three exclamation marks. From the level of excitement in those typed up words, Kendall could've sworn the Latino was the one who was going, not himself. There was also an excited e-mail from Camille in his inbox, saying she hoped he had fun and wishing him luck in being the second guy picked to be onstage. Kendall had to bite his tongue on that one, stop himself from correcting her about being the first and only guy who'd been brought up there, typing up a different response instead.

"_Thought you were busy shipping James and that Kendall dude..._"

He left to do his chores, finding her reply an hour later.

"_I am. But doesn't mean I can't hope you get up there and have a romantic moment of your own ;)_"

If she only knew.

He simply put an '_lol thanks_' as a response, shutting down his laptop for the rest of the day.

Carlos kept texting his countdown, not that Kendall needed it. He had one of his own going. But he was humoring his friend, feeling bad that he wasn't taking the Latino to the concert. After all, like Carlos had said, he was the reason Kendall and James had met, so to speak. He owed the smaller male, and the blond was planning on making it up to him. He'd start by buying him a tee.

The darker haired male replied '_make it a hoodie & ur 4given :)_'

The blond told him not to push it.

That earned him a '_hehe_' in response, and another unnecessary countdown update.

Kendall and Katie left around lunchtime, picking up fast food and eating it on the way, not wanting to be late for the meet and greet. Not that Kendall was paranoid about missing it or anything. Hell no. And the only reason they were listening to James Diamond on the way was because of Katie, because he knew she'd wanna listen to it.

Man, he really needed to learn how to lie to himself better because he was doing such a shit job of it.

The music faded into the background anyway, Katie on her cell—which Kendall had no fucking clue why an eleven year old even needed a fucking cell phone in the first place—chatting away with some friend—which he was honestly surprised she had. Nothing against her, just she wasn't exactly the friendliest girl out there, plus she tended to act older than her actual age, making it hard for her to relate to kids in her peer group.

Whatever. Kendall wasn't gonna think about that either. Not by choice really. No, 'cause his brain and all its rebelliousness had decided to cause him pain once again by going over all those fucking scenarios that he'd already thought up, focusing on the more negative outcomes. Pretty much SOP at that point.

He reached the highway, his driving now happening on autopilot, being able to go straight for several miles at one speed without really having to consciously think about doing anything regarding the car. Everything else seemed to just melt away from his conscious mind, Kendall not hearing Katie's blabbering, the music playing, the car's engine, or the engines of those around him. All he could think about was what was gonna happen in an hour or so, about how he was gonna see James in person once more, about how he was gonna touch him and feel him and breathe him and oh my fucking god, he had turned into a fucking pansy.

Adjusting his beanie on top of his head then smearing his hand over his face, Kendall tried to calm himself down, tried not to get his hopes up too high. Really, all he should be expecting was a good show. All this other shit, anything regarding James himself, he should anticipate nothing. There were no guarantees there about anything happening on any level. Expecting something, hoping for something, it was just setting himself up for disappointment and he didn't want his night ruined because of it. The concert might not turn out to be as special or as life-altering as the last one, but it could still be a damn good time.

Music cut into his revery, bringing him back to reality, that fucking piano track starting up. Without even thinking about it, he reached his hand over to skip the track, Katie's voice stopping him.

"Whoa! What're you doing?!"

His hand froze as he turned his head, green eyes looking at wide chocolate brown ones. "What?"

"You can't skip this song!"

He glanced at the road a couple times, one eyebrow raised in question and confusion. "Why the hell not?"

"Because I need to listen to it so I can prepare myself."

Kendall finally dropped his hand, resting his elbow on the center console of his car, head turned towards the front windshield. But he could still see his little sister out the corner of her eyes, see how she was turned towards him, face serious, arms folded over her blue flannel shirt. "For what exactly?"

"For when he brings me onstage."

Now his eyebrows completely scrunched up, confused once again. "What makes you so sure you're gonna be brought onstage?"

She rolled her eyes, her head mimicking the action before focusing back on her big brother. "We have aisle seats, near the front. Prime picking spot."

More confusion from Kendall. "How do you know we have aisle seats?"

"I memorized the layout of Xcel Energy Centre, then saw the seat numbers on the tickets."

Now his eyes were wide in panic. He'd kept the tickets in his nightstand drawer for safe keeping—ironically also the place where he kept his lube and condoms. His eleven year old sister didn't need to see those in person, especially not in her older brother's room. The lecture his mom would give him about that one...

"When'd you see the tickets?"

"Earlier today."

Relief flooded him, his shoulders slumping, a deep breath leaving him. Thank fuck for that. He was gonna live to see another day.

"What?" She let out a scoff of disbelief. "You thought I went through your stuff to look for them?" She shook her head, rolling her eyes, before pushing her loosely curled hair back from her face. "Get real, big brother. I'm sure there's some stuff in your room that I don't even wanna know about."

"And I don't want you knowing about 'em either."

"So, that's settled then."

"Yeah, sure." He wasn't entirely sure what exactly had been settled, but wasn't about to go into details. As long as she stayed out of his room and away from his shit, he was fine with whatever.

A long moment of silence settled over them. Well, as silent as things can be with music coming out every speaker of the car. Thank fuck it wasn't _that_ song.

Then Katie spoke again.

"So, what do you do when I'm brought onstage? Just sit there and stew in your jealousy, anger festering inside of you, envy oozing out every pore?" she questioned as she leaned towards Kendall, evil look in her eyes as she wiggled her fingers maniacally.

He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her about how Carlos stayed in his seat, about how he wasn't sure if the Latino was jealous or angry or envious or any of that shit. But Kendall stopped himself before he uttered a single syllable, closing his mouth once more. Katie still had no clue her big brother had gone onstage and he wasn't about to change that fact.

Smearing his hand over his face again, elbow resting on the door, he shrugged. "I dunno 'bout all that other stuff, but yeah, I'll probably just hafta stay in my seat. If you even get picked, which I doubt."

She snorted. "Oh, I am getting picked," she stated with full conviction, slim finger pointed at her big brother. "Just you watch."

Kendall rolled his eyes as the sign for their exit showed up. "Sure, baby sister. Whatever you say." He checked in the mirrors and his blind spots, indicator on, before going into the right lane.

"Well, he's definitely not gonna pick _you_. You're a guy, for starters. Plus I'd kill you."

The smile on his face was a smug one. "You'd have no way to get home."

"Oh, I won't kill you right away. I have it all planned out."

Kendall eased the car onto the off-ramp, slowing down as they came to a red light, glancing at his sister a few times to see the serious look in her eyes, the evil smirk on her face, arms still folded over her chest, back against the chair in her own sense of smugness.

"You are something else, baby sister."

"And don't you forget it."

He smiled, traffic moving as the light turned green, his foot easing off the brake. "Not possible."

Conversation ceased for the rest of the ride, Kendall trying not to get lost in downtown St. Paul, Katie now chewing on a thumbnail as she stared out her window. He tried to keep his mind focused on driving and directions and signs, but his body still managed to react, that whole heart-pounding, stomach-flipping, chest-tightening, butterflies-flying thing happening inside of him. Quick glances in his rear and side view mirrors told him he wasn't showing any of that on his face, so he had that going for him.

Traffic wasn't all that bad, he easily managing to find a parking space since it was so early. Only 2:45, but there were still lines of people. He had a feeling not all of them were VIPs though.

Shutting the engine down, he double-checked he had everything in his pockets, Katie already out the car by the time he got his seat belt off. She was gonna be fucking trouble that night, he just knew it.

Taking a deep breath, puffing up his cheeks and blowing it out, he braced himself for the emotional rollercoaster he was about to endure. He wasn't a _Hunger Games_ fan, but he sure as fuck hoped the odds were ever in his favor.


	6. Rollercoasters Suck

_**A/N: **__Okay, soooooooo sorry for the delay of this! But gawwwwwwwwd it was fighting me all the way and would NOT wanna be written! Plus I was busy with a whole buncha shit, then I had my concert (ALSKDJF;ASDJF;LASKJDF;LAJSDF;LJAS;DF;A) so I was freaking out over that (plus some drama that urgh! But it solved itself so yay!)_

_Anyhoo, uh...yeah, this update was a bitch to write, so that's the main reason for the delay on it. Kendall's a difficult asshole, I swear. Plus most of this was actually supposed to be in the last chapter, but it got away from me and got to be WAY too long so it had to be cut..._

_Whole buncha excuses, but there it is. And here is the update!_

_I had some other shit to say but...um...thanks to everyone for reviewing! And hopefully no one kills me anytime soon. Um...I'm talking to Nath right now so I'm so out of it..._

_Whatever. Enjoy!_

* * *

When Kendall was thirteen, he went through a really self-conscious phase, as most adolescents are prone to do. Everyone's body is changing, growing, and hormones are outta whack, pretty much obliterating your self-esteem. And Kendall was no different, although it wasn't his body he was feeling bad about. It was his face.

He could admit that his features weren't what were considered classically handsome. His nose was a bit too big, same with his chin, eyebrows a li'l too full. And when he mentioned these self-conscious feelings to his mom, she responded with the usual parental cliches: "You're beautiful to me", "you're not ugly", "your features are distinguished, not big". It actually semi-worked to make him feel better, along with the realization that there wasn't anything he could really do about any of it, that was the face he was given so he might as well just shut the fuck up and learn to deal. Being into metal music where the musicians weren't traditionally good looking either helped as well.

But at that moment, standing in the lobby as he and his sister waited for the soundcheck/Q&A session to start, he wished his features weren't so "distinguished". Because "distinguished" meant "easier to recognize", meaning those stares coming from several females as everyone stood around could possibly be because they knew who he was, remembered his "distinguished features" from pics of the last show in St. Paul.

Okay, it was possible that he was being paranoid, that those girls kept looking over because he was one of two guys there—although if anyone asked, having his little sister by his side made for a good cover story. It was highly likely that his own fears of being found out, of people discovering that he was a metal head at a pop concert, of learning that he was the guy who'd been brought onstage and they start treating him different because of it, that those worries were manifesting themselves into a belief that it was all coming true and that it was currently happening to him at that moment in time.

'_Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not out to get you._'

'_Oh. My. Fucking. God. Fuck. Off._'

'_You're just pissed because you know I'm right._'

Kendall hated his brain sometimes.

Or a lotta times. Whatever.

He smeared a hand over his face, hoping to wipe away the mental argument and the paranoia, to at least pretend that he was halfway normal and not freaking out internally about whether or not people were recognizing him. He wasn't even gonna bother trying to calm himself down about everything else that was about to happen to him within the next hour or so.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped his hand, shoving it and the other one in the pockets of his jeans, his gray t-shirt slightly bunching up by his wrists. Looking around, his green eyes came across a teenage girl, maybe around his age, light brown hair reaching halfway down her back, black rimmed glasses on her face. And she was staring right at him, lips twisted, brow furrowed, like he was some sorta fucking scientific equation with weird letters and symbols instead of numbers and she was trying to find out what X equaled.

Right, because he didn't have enough of his own fucking problems to solve on his own.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked at the brunette, questioning look on his own face, wordlessly asking what the fuck she was looking at.

She seemed to snap out of it, sheepish smile on her face as she looked at him, knowing she was busted. "Sorry," she apologized in a sweet voice, letting out a nervous laugh. "You just look really familiar and I was tryna figure out where I knew you from."

Oh. Shit. Now _he_ was the busted one. He should've fucking known when he bought those tickets that he was running a risk of getting recognized, that someone was bound to know who he was and where they'd seen him before. Yeah, let's just add this one to the rumor mill.

"_The only guy who was brought onstage by James Diamond was at his St. Paul show again. Guess they really _are _dating if he keeps showing up like that._"

Shit.

But clearly his paranoia had been right. People figured him out, people recognized him, those damn "distinguished features" of his getting him in trouble.

But he didn't show any of this to that girl, to anyone else. He just put a blank look on his face, like he had no clue what this chick was talking about, shrugging his shoulders, hands held up, head shaking. "I dunno," he replied, dropping his hands. "Maybe I bagged your groceries once?"

She bit her lower lip, eyes narrowed, studying him once again. "No, don't think so." Her face relaxed and she shrugged, shoving a hand through her hair to sweep it back from her face. "Whatevs. You just looked familiar, like I'd seen you before. But I guess it doesn't matter all that much if I can't remember."

His eyes went wide at that one. Wow. Rude.

But he didn't get a chance to reply, since she turned around and started chatting with her friends, the conversation with him clearly over. It was moments like that that made him glad he was gay. Girls were too much drama, too moody, too unpredictable, too...many things for him to list. Not that guys didn't come without their own drama—his current situation being clear evidence of that—but they seemed far less complicated than girls.

Whatever. He didn't have time to hash over the pros and cons of his homosexuality. Plus he wasn't exactly in the appropriate location for those kinda thoughts. He needed to focus on acting like a normal human being, one that wasn't internally freaking out about what was about to happen, about how some celeb would react when they met him.

Then again probably everyone in the lobby at that moment in time was freaking out over exactly that thought, although for a completely different reason and not to the extent that Kendall was.

Kendall was on the verge of a panic attack.

A rep from VIP Nation, the company allowing this whole soundcheck/meet and greet thing to happen, came out from the main part of the arena, yelling out instructions to follow him, to not try and go anywhere else, that security was everywhere and they'd be watching, that whoever broke the rules would be kicked out and not allowed re-entry.

Harsh but fair.

The crowd was led into the arena, Kendall putting his hands on Katie's shoulders to keep track of her, ignoring how she turned her head and glared up at him. And he, of course, also ignored her protests as he led her to the end of one row, away from center stage, where she clearly wanted to be. But whatever. She was just gonna hafta deal. He bought the damn tickets, used up an entire paycheck to take her to this show and allow her to meet her favorite singer—not that he had any selfish reasons or hidden agenda about the whole thing, nope, no way, no how—plus he was the adult there, so to speak, so Katie was just gonna hafta shut up and do as he said.

So at the right end of the second row, Kendall sat, Katie on his left, closer to the middle of the stage. The band's equipment was all set up, the stage prepared for the show to come. In the middle, towards the front, were three stools, the two on the ends a little further back, a mike stand in front of the middle with the amplifying device on top.

The fans all took their seats, chatting amongst themselves, excited squeals and giggles making their way over the cacophony of conversations. Kendall's knee started that nervous bouncing up and down shit again, teeth gnawing a hangnail on his thumb, green eyes focused on that center stool. James was gonna be sitting there. James perfectly formed ass was gonna be resting on that stool. Live. In person. Right in front of Kendall.

The blond wrapped his free left arm around his torso, clutching his twisted up stomach as the anxiety and nerves threatened to make him throw up his burger and fries all over the blond chick in front of him.

How to Make Friends and Win People Over, by Kendall Knight.

"Urgh!" Katie groaned on his left, drawing his attention away from the stool, away from the stage, away from his semi-upset tummy. He dropped his right hand onto his lap, turning his head to his little sister.

"Can't they get this show on the road?" she complained, arms folded across her chest, pout on her face as she slouched in her seat.

The blond had been wondering the same thing but kept his agreement to himself, deciding to continue his charade of not liking the pop singer. "You know what divas are like," he replied, leaning down slightly to get closer to her ear. "Never on time, spending forever in the make-up chair. He's probably covering up crow's feet or putting on those fake eyelashes."

Okay, he knew for a fact they weren't fake, had seen 'em up close with his own eyes, but he felt like he needed to make fun in some way.

The blond girl in front of Kendall turned around, smirk on her painted lips. "Or maybe he's too busy with that St. Paul guy."

Kendall cocked an eyebrow, wondering who this eavesdropping bitch was and why she thought Kendall—aka 'That St. Paul Guy'-was that big a whore that he'd just fuck this pop star solely because he was in town—which is totally not true, 'cause he'd totally never do that.

Katie's own, much thinner, eyebrows scrunched up as she turned her head up to her big brother. Only she never got to say anything, thank fuck. The fans had started cheering, clapping, a couple whistles being let out.

Holy shit. This was it. The moment—well, one of 'em anyway—that Kendall had been waiting on for the past couple months. He was about to be in the same room with James once again.

His head snapped to the stage, seeing a couple guys in jeans and t-shirts taking their seats on the two outer stools, getting comfortable as they held onto an acoustic guitar each. But Kendall wasn't paying attention to either of them. His focus was on the brunet taking the mike off the stand. The wrong brunet, one he didn't wanna see.

He recognized the spiky haired male as James' assistant/best friend, Logan. Pretty much every fan of the pop star knew who the guy was, some even getting his autograph or taking a picture with him.

Logan smirked at the cheers he was receiving, dimples forming in his cheeks. "All right, all right," he said into the mike, hand out to calm the small crowd. "Save it for the real star."

A couple girls let out catcalls, one yelling out "I love you, Logie Bear!", which made the brunet laugh and Kendall roll his eyes.

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you ladies—and a couple gents—what's about to happen," the male on stage started. "James is gonna come out here, answer a few questions, play an acoustic song, answer a few more questions, then another song, su'more questions. We're gonna try and get to everyone, but if we run outta time, we're sorry. Gotta make sure everyone gets a chance to have their pic taken with James and not have the show start late, all right?"

The audience clapped and cheered, which roughly translated to a "yeah, we get it, sure, no problem."

"Cool, now," Logan started then paused a quick second to make sure everyone was paying attention. "Gotta remind everyone that there are some younger fans here right now, so try and keep things a little more G-rated, okay? Nothing inappropriate, no swearing, things like that. Just be respectful of each other, sound good?"

More agreement from the small crowd, then the brunet onstage wished everyone a good time and to have fun before putting the mike back where he found it and walking off to the side. The cheers got louder, screams added in, as James finally made his way across the stage.

That's about when Kendall stopped breathing. God the singer looked fucking _good_. Like, really fucking good. Like, 'get in my fucking bed and let me have my way with you' good. And he was just in black skinny jeans and graphic tee, black leather jacket on top. It was just like before, when he first made eye contact with him at that show three months prior: the entire world melted away, his ears deaf to all the claps, cheers, cat-calls, eyes not seeing anything else. It was James and nothing else.

And Kendall was loving it.

The singer took his seat on the stool, smiling his million dollar smile, flashing those perfectly white teeth as he waved to everyone, thanked them all for being there, asked who had a question.

Kendall barely paid attention to what was being said, only halfway hearing what the pop star liked in his coffee, or his hobbies when not on tour, what kinda pre-show rituals he had. And it wasn't that the blond didn't care—or didn't already know half that shit anyway—he just couldn't focus on anything. He was too busy staring, too busy noticing how James flicked his head to the left to get his bangs out of his eyes, only to finger comb them immediately after, too busy watching how he rubbed his palm on his right thigh when he had an itch, too busy trying to moan out loud when the pop star licked his lips—which was far too often for his sanity's sake.

The first song was an acoustic version of his latest single, James' voice already warmed up, hitting every note with perfection. Chills went up Kendall's spine as he wailed into the mike, let out those famous runs of his. The crowd was singing along, but the blond didn't notice, barely even registered the guitars. All he heard was James' vocals.

Everyone cheered when the song was done, Kendall halfway aware that he was clapping. Then more questions, more answers that were only halfway heard, the blond more fascinated with the fact that both he and James' right legs were bouncing up and down in sync. That had to be some sort of a sign, right?

Oh. Dear. God. He was one of those fuckers...

He smeared a hand over his face, glad no one around him was a mind-reader—that he knew of—and that no one was even remotely paying attention to him, including his sister. His skin didn't feel hot so hopefully that meant he wasn't blushing. Thank fuck for small favors.

"What happened with that guy you brought onstage last time you were here?"

Okay, that actually got Kendall's attention.

His hand dropped to his lap, eyes wide, glued to the male onstage, searching for any little clues.

A small smile was on the singer's face as he let out a quiet laugh. "I was waiting for someone to ask me about him," he admitted, looking at whomever had posed the question. "But I honestly have no idea. I get asked about him a lot and I've heard the rumors, but it wasn't really anything like that. It was kinda just a spur of the moment thing. I saw him in the crowd and wanted to bring him up on stage." He shrugged, playing it all off, but Kendall knew better. Kendall knew about the intensity that passed when they locked eyes, knew about that spark that flowed between them when they touched hands, knew about that bubble that had formed around them when James sang to the blond on stage.

But he also knew the singer couldn't say any of that shit. If the singer even felt it himself.

"So you never saw him again?" A different fan, one in a different part of the audience than the girl who'd originally brought "That St. Paul Guy" up.

"Nope."

"Do you want to?"

Kendall sat up straighter in his seat, bottom lip between his teeth, anticipation running through his bones. God, it was like the other day with Camille, Kendall on the literal edge of his seat, awaiting a response that may very well change his life. His heart was pounding in his throat, breath caught in his lungs, and he swallowed dryly, hoping to somehow created some wetness in his mouth.

James rubbed his hand down the back of his head, smoothing his hair there, messing with his bangs once more, licking his lips, stalling. It was like he was purposely fucking with the blond, drawing it out, torturing him by making him wait for the answer he'd been longing for for months.

Dick.

Finally, a small smile appeared on the pop star's face, mouth back by the mike. "I wanna see all my fans again. I love meeting them, making them smile, knowing that I made them happy, and to see them again and hear about how happy I made them with that hug or autograph or whatever from last time, it's an awesome feeling."

Kendall slumped back, spine backing against the seat, completely deflated. Definitely not the answer he wanted to hear. He was just another fan, just some random dude to James. Chances were the singer hadn't thought much of that night, other than "hey, brought a guy onstage instead of a chick". Chances were that Kendall's face had become a blur, become forgotten, just some distant memory to the singer. All the blond was now was a featureless nobody, a random body with no face, that had been onstage one night.

And didn't that just suck a big fat hairy one?

The rest of the Q&A session went by unnoticed, Kendall not hearing any of it, including the second acoustic sound. All he could hear was his own negative thoughts, his mind repeatedly telling him over and over about how he was nothing special, about how he was a moron to actually think he made any sort of impact in James Diamond's life, about how he was stupid to think there had been anything special there. Hell, probably all the girls that were brought onstage had the same feelings, that same belief that there had been a connection and that there were sparks and all that bullshit. I mean, the guy was a fucking pop star singing about love. You had to think he knew how to trick someone in order to make them believe the words were real.

Long story short, Kendall had been played.

Unless...

Maybe the singer was just playing it all off. Maybe he was lying in some way to protect his image, to protect Kendall. Surely James would know of any sorta negative backlash if he were to turn around and say "Yeah, I wanna see him again", how it would be misconstrued, how it would end up all over Tumblr, Twitter, messageboards, Perez Hilton, etc etc, that James was wanting to see this guy again. It would just add a whole lotta fuel to the gay rumor fire. Someone—either the singer himself or one of his "people"-knew how the industry worked to the point where they knew he needed to be really fucking careful what he said and did if "That St. Paul Guy" was ever brought up again.

Well played, Diamond.

The Q&A now over, Logan came back out on stage, giving more instructions. James smiled widely as he stood, telling everyone he'd see them soon, before giving a final wave and walking offstage with his friend. The earlier rep from VIP Nation came back, telling everyone to follow him, the crowd standing up. Kendall and Katie both rose to their feet, the teenager putting his hands on his little sister's shoulders, stopping her from walking away.

The young brunette turned her head up, glaring at her big brother again, the blond just rolling his eyes.

"We wanna be last that way we have more time 'cause we won't be holding up the line," he stated, hiding his full reasons for suggesting that. After all, more time with James meant more time to figure shit out, to see what was really there between them. Plus he really didn't wanna go through all that shit, the focused stares, the talking, the possible awkwardness or intensity with a whole bunch of people behind him, watching. Uncomfortable as fuck.

Katie gave him another suspicious look before shrugging and turning her head to the front, arms folded over her chest, waiting for both rows to clear. When the seats where emptied, everyone lined up at the door, she and her older brother finally made their way forward, standing at the back of the mob as the rest of the crowd fought to go through the door first and get closer to the pop star faster.

And as much as Kendall was dying to do the same, as badly as he wanted to get to James—and get to him _now—_he fought his impatient desires to knock all these teenie bopper skanks down and be the first the pop star sees. After that Q&A sesh, his mind was back to all those negative scenarios, the beliefs that he wasn't anything special and the singer didn't remember him and that he meant nothing to the star. And as much as he tried to remind himself of his earlier thought of James lying to the fan who asked, of James trying to protect Kendall, he couldn't convince himself. At least not fully.

So as much as he was trying to be patient and wait and hope that being the last one would allow him a few extra moments—plus a lack of stares from other fans—he knew he was also trying to delay the inevitable letdown, the heartbreak that was pretty much guaranteed at this point.

He felt like puking again.

Standing in line, waiting as others had their picture taking with the singer, he focused on everything else. He tried counting the painted cement blocks that made up the walls. He chewed on another hangnail, picked dirt out from under his fingernails. He retied the laces on his boots, picked at a loose thread on the pocket of his jeans, smoothed his Every Time I Die "Hot Damn" t-shirt, adjusted his beanie on top of his head, stopped when he realized he was acting like a chick and fussing over his appearance. Went back to counting cement blocks.

A small hand smacking the middle of his chest brought him back to reality, head tilting down to see his sister glaring at him as she stood a few steps away.

"We're up, space ranger," she stated, 'tude dripping off her words. Rolling her eyes, she turned away and faced the front, walking over.

A few feet away, a black curtain covered the back wall, the logo for the current James Diamond tour in front of it. Logan was standing there, dimpled smile on his face as he chatted away, words that went unnoticed by Kendall. Not because he couldn't hear them, but because he wasn't paying attention. All his focus was on the leather-clad back of the pop singer the short brunet was talking to.

James. Fucking. Diamond.

The blond male swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck briefly, before deciding to stop being such a pussy. He was seventeen, practically a man—definitely the man of the house—and he needed to fucking stop this chick behavior he'd been engaging in here lately. With a deep breath, he walked forward, following his younger sister over. Only to stop four steps later.

James turned around, hazel eyes locking onto Kendall's green ones. And suddenly, Kendall had all the answers he needed.


	7. Nice To Meet You for the Second Time

_**A/N: **__Got a lot to say here, starting with YOU CAN'T KILL ME OTHERWISE YOU WON'T KNOW WHAT'S GONNA HAPPEN IN THIS STORY! That plus I've yet to have any Masbabies (right, Nath ;) ) Oh, and I'm looking into hiring Freight Train to protect me :D But seriously, that cliffhanger had been planned since I started chapter one, maybe even before that. So...I knew it was coming. You guys didn't (obvi) but I did, so I was actually hoping for death threats and angry yells. So yay! I did my job right :D  
_

_Next, HOLY. SHIT. YOU. GUYS. Twenty-seven reviews on the last chapter-which I attribute to you guys being really pissed off with me and threatening me, but I will take it! But all those reviews pushed me to 100 reviews overall! Thank you guys so so much! So great to know you guys are loving it!_

_Special shout outs to Nath, for being herself, and iamcaptainnarcolepsy, paigeistherealmasterofcomeba cks, and rockchickblog on Tumblr (I don't know your names on here, sorry :( ) for the awesome posts and/or messages. Those were just so fucking awesome I can't even begin to find the words, other than keysmashing and weird pterodactyl type noises. So thank you guys a million times over! Thank you, thank you, thank you!_

_Not sure what else to say right now. Kinda just busy freaking out over those messages/posts again. I'm a nerd, okay?! Uh...the usual I don't own BTR, witty comment about what would happen if I did, yada yada yada. VIP Nation don't sue! OH! Say "fanboying" out loud. You sound like Flavor Flav. But other than that... ummmmm...yeah!_

_Enjoy!_

_AND DON'T KILL ME!_

* * *

Kendall's heart stopped right in his chest. Or was it beating double time? He wasn't sure. Either way, it wasn't acting normal.

His green eyes were locked onto James' hazel ones, watching as the singer's orbs widened, his breath hitched, mouth opening in shock. That had to be a sign, right? A clue of some sort. James had to remember him, that had to be it. Why else would the internationally known pop star be looking like _he_ was the one who was starstruck?

But as quickly as that expression had appeared on James' face, that was how fast it vanished. The singer closed his mouth, put his eyes back in his skull, and cleared his throat before plastering a friendly smile on his face, one used for all fans, one Kendall had seen in countless pics the pop star had taken with his admirers. The change had happened so quickly that the blond wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't imagined the whole thing. Wish for something enough, hope for something enough, it was bound to fuck with your head and cause you to see shit that wasn't actually there. Hadn't he been telling himself that the past couple months?

Smearing a hand over his face, he hid his confusion, his disappointment. He hadn't been expecting any sorta overly dramatic reunion straight out of a chick flick where James cries out his name before running over and embracing the younger male in a bone crushing hug, rambling about how he was so thankful the blond had come, how he was so scared he'd never see the slightly shorter male, how he'd spent the past two months pining over a guy he'd spent a total of five minutes with.

Okay, maybe he _had_ and it ended with a fuckfest on the black curtain that they'd pulled down onto the floor and wet boxers when he woke up.

But still, he was hoping for something more than a brief flicker of what could possibly be recognition on the brunet male's face. Although he shouldn't complain _too_ much. Was better than nothing.

Didn't stop the disappointment and sadness from knocking him on his ass like a prize fighter.

Shoving that shit aside, he put an emotionless mask on his face, walking over to where the singer was already talking to his sister, coming in to part of their convo.

"Big bro bought me the tickets for my birthday," Katie told James, arms folded over her arms in a relaxed manner as she tilted her head back to look up at him. "He's tryna buy my love."

James laughed, the sound as musical as his singing voice, Kendall's heart doing that weird stopping-yet-beating-double-time thing again. God, the things this male did to him. None of it was fucking okay.

The singer kept up the convo with the younger female, not seeming to notice Kendall as he stopped a step behind on her left. "So it's your birthday?"

"Next Wednesday."

"Happy early birthday." The pop star gave her a genuine smile, touching her shoulder briefly, causing Katie to giggle—which she _never_ did—before turning to Kendall, hands on his hips in a relaxed manner. "So you came for your sister, huh?" His face seemed to be flat, but his green-brown eyes were a myriad of emotions that the blond couldn't even begin to figure out.

He rubbed the back of his neck, debating on how exactly to answer. "Uh," he dropped his hand, shoving both in his jeans pockets. "Yeah." Okay, slightly a lie, but whatever. He wasn't gonna admit to anything and seem like a loser fanboy.

Which he totally wasn't.

Something flashed on James' face, his smile slightly faltering for a brief second before he righted it. Only instead of the grin looking like the genuine one before, it was back to the fake one he forced during photoshoots. Which caused Kendall to internally raise an eyebrow in question. What the fuck was that about?

"Cool," James replied, that fake smile still there as Logan walked back over, dimpled smile on his face.

"You guys ready to get your picture taken?" the spiky haired male questioned, clapping his hands together, clearly wanting to get the show on the road.

The singer turned to his best friend, shaking his bangs to the side, that fake smile disappearing and confusion taking over. "Huh? Oh! Right." He turned back to the Knight siblings, small smile back. Kendall wondered how the guy's face didn't hurt from all these false grins, the happy face that was always plastered there. Maybe the muscles had built up strength due to their constant use. The blond definitely wouldn't know anything about that.

He, Katie, and James moved so they were in front of the logo hanging over the black curtain that covered the back wall. The young girl positioned herself ahead of the two males, Kendall putting a hand on her right shoulder, James mimicking the position on her left one. Not that the blond was paying much attention to the brunet's left hand, considering the pop star's right one was currently on the teenager's lower back, the palm hot, burning him even through the cotton of his t-shirt. It was like someone put hot coals right against his spine, warming his entire body. He was surprised he hadn't broken out into a sweat.

Knowing it might be his only chance, he decided to make a move—of sorts—of his own. With a mental 'fuck it', he shored up his courage, moving his own left hand under James' jacket, palm flat, fingers splayed right against the singer's lower back.

And damn if the brunet's skin there didn't feel just as hot as his palm on Kendall, the heat the blond was feeling getting more intense, like he was in a sauna and someone had cranked up the temp. He was on fucking _fire._

James' arm snaked around Kendall more, hand now on the blond's side, gripping it tight. The teen inhaled sharply, entire body tensing, fingers digging into the pop star's tee. It was definitely there again, that connection, that intensity, that feeling that if James didn't do anything—and soon—Kendall was gonna explode.

Although shoving his tongue down the singer's throat in front of his baby sister was a really bad idea. Sure, she watched a lotta cop shows, had seen a lotta shit most eleven-year-olds hadn't, but two grown men sucking face and groping each other wasn't one of those things.

At least he hoped not.

"All right," the photographer started, cutting into the intensity. "Everyone smile on three."

Kendall focused on the guy behind the camera seated on a tripod, trying to ignore how it felt like flames were slowly burning him alive as he stood there, ignore how good it felt to be in James' embrace, ignore how fucking edible the singer smelled. He made sure not to show how bad he was freaking out, how he was wishing no one else was around and his and James' clothes were gone so he could fully feel that skin to skin burn all over. Instead, he attempted to smile like a normal person who was happy in that moment and not one who was dealing with all that shit in his head.

The photographer counted to three, the camera clicking as the picture was taken. And while Kendall was thankful to have that moment captured for the rest of his life—although he was one-hundred percent certain he'd never forget a second of it anyway—he didn't wanna move, didn't wanna leave the singer's arm. He'd never really experienced a desire, a need to stay in a moment forever—except a few brief wishes of that at a few concerts or parties. But he knew he'd give up anything and everything to keep James' arm right where it was.

"All right, guys, we got it," the photographer stated as he straightened up from behind his camera.

Katie stepped forward—well, _bounced_ forward was more accurate, which was still really fucking weird to see her actually act her age rather than older. But when Kendall tried to move forward, James' grip on his side tightened, the singer pulling him closer and holding him in place.

"Wait!" the brunet male called out, four heads whipping around to him. "We need to take another photo. My eyes were closed."

"Uh, James?" Logan spoke up from his position on the photographer's left. "They only paid for one."

"Yeah, don't care. I'm not giving my fans a pic where I look like a derp with my eyes closed," James argued, eyes hard as they stared his best friend down. "Let's take another."

"I don-"

"Logan!" The singer interrupted. "Another. Picture. Now." His jaw was tense as he practically growled out the words from between his teeth, anger all over his face, stare heated as he glared and holy shit, was that fucking hot.

The shorter brunet male let out a harsh sigh, shoving a hand through his dark hair and pulling on the locks before shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips. "Fine," he relented, giving Kendall the impression that it happened a lot, the assistant turning to the photographer. "Give the diva what he wants."

"Di_vo_, thank you very much."

Logan rolled his eyes.

"Idea," James started, ignoring his best friend and turning to the male he still had a hold of. "Why don't we pick the birthday girl up and have her lay across our arms?" Those hazel eyes of his were locked onto Kendall's green ones and the blond knew that if the singer asked him to go jump off a bridge with him, he'd do it without hesitation, as long as he looked at him with those green-brown eyes.

How. Fucking. Pathetic.

"It's Katie," the young female corrected him, James turning his head to her. "And I am _totally_ okay with that."

The smile the pop star gave her was a genuine one, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. Kendall found himself wishing the singer wasn't so great with his sister. For starters, it was making him feel like a shit brother. And secondly, it was too fucking cute and was making the blond fall harder.

Asshole.

James unwrapped his arm from around Kendall, making the teen's skin immediately grow cold. Except where the pop star had touched him. A permanent impression had been burned onto him there.

The two males managed to lift the small female so that she was laying across their arms, James holding her legs, Kendall her torso.

"Wait, hold on," the singer started, interrupting the photographer's count. "I gotta-" he broke off, moving his right hand, causing Kendall to tighten his own grip and shift his hand to his sister's hip. Where James promptly covered the blond's hand with his own. "Much better," the brunet commented.

The blond's eyes went wide. The guy had to be fucking with him. Right?

"I swear if you idiots drop me-" Katie let the threat hang unspoken, her brother rolling his eyes.

"Don't worry. We got you," James replied, the eleven year old relaxing in their arms.

'_At least she can fucking relax,_' Kendall thought to himself, a warm tingle passing through the back of his hand and throughout his body.

The photographer called for their attention, starting his count over, taking their pic. Again. Once that was done, the two males carefully sat the young girl on her feet, neither letting go until she was stable. Or shoved their hands away, which was what happened.

James let out an amused laugh as he straightened. "Feisty, aren't we?"

Katie pointed, big brown eyes turned up at him. "And don't you forget it, buddy," she instructed, before folding her arms over her chest.

The singer chuckled again. "Well, with that attitude, I'm sure you'll get everything you want for your birthday next week."

"Always do."

Yet another laugh, Kendall's heart pounding in rhythm with it, only to stop when the brunet turned his head and looked at him. Their eyes locked again, the world melting away like it seemed to always do with them, the blond's breath stopping in his lungs.

A serious expression washed over the pop star's face, James licking his lips before speaking in a low volume. "Good seeing you again, Kendall."

The teenager swallowed hard, chest tight, that tingle back once more. Only now it was all over. "You, too." His voice was barely a whisper, hardly even heard by his own ears. But judging by how James' smile grew, the brunet had clearly heard.

"Uh, James?" Logan's questioning voice cut into their moment, rudely reminding Kendall that it wasn't just him and James. Dick. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

The singer let out a short, harsh sigh, looking as annoyed as the blond felt. "Yeah, sure." The smile he gave Kendall and Katie was an apologetic one, before he turned and walked over to his best friend and the photographer, the teenager totally not staring at his ass in those tight, dark jeans.

The VIP Nation rep from earlier walked over, carrying two purple drawstring bags with gold diamonds all over them. "All right, guys," he spoke to the Knight siblings, creepily friendly smile on his face. "Here's your goody bags. Time to go get any merch you wanna buy before the doors open."

Kendall glared at the guy, snatching his bag. His time with James was over, he was being kicked out by this prick. Needless to say, he was a little pissed. Or more than a little. Whatever.

Katie was handed her bag and the two of them followed the rep out into the hallway. He led them through the backstage labyrinth, back to the main lobby, where he pointed the way to the merch booth before leaving them.

"Okay, spill," Katie demanded, once she and Kendall were alone.

"Spill what?" he questioned, turning to walk in the direction they'd been pointed.

His little sister fell in step on his left, brown eyes going back and forth between her big bro and looking in front of her to see where she was going. "'Good to see you again'?" she quoted James. "When'd he see you the first time? Plus he knew your name without either of us telling him, there were all those weird looks between you two, _and_ you've been acting strange since you went to his show last time. What's going on with you guys?"

Yeeeah, so not going there. Not with his mom and definitely not with an eleven year old.

"Nothing's going on."

"You're a crap liar, big brother."

"Believe whatever you want, baby sister."

But the truth was, he didn't know if he was lying. From the way the singer had touched him, looked at him, it certainly _felt_ like there was something there. But they weren't in a relationship, there were no date plans. Hell, the guy didn't even ask Kendall to wait as he talked to Logan. Plus the blond didn't fully get any answers as to whether he was remembered or if the singer had felt the same things he had. So Kendall had to figure that, in reality, there really wasn't anything going on. And wasn't that just a major fucking bummer?

A male voice hit his ears, his name being called out. He stopped walking, Katie doing the same, both of them turning around to see Logan jogging over.

A relieved smile was on the spiky haired male's face when he reached them, chest rising and falling a little faster than usual. "Hey, glad I caught ya," he told them, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Mind coming with me?"

The elder Knight raised an eyebrow in question, the younger speaking for them. "Can't. Gotta go put a dent in your merch booth."

"And I owe my friend a hoodie," Kendall added, having decided to just give in to Carlos, since the lil annoying bastard had been right about having introduced the blond to James Diamond.

"Um, okay." Logan shoved a hand in his hair, tugging at it again, face showing that he was trying to work something out. "I'll get the hoodie and take your sister to the booth, if you go with Freight Train."

The blond raised his eyebrow once more, wondering who—or what—the fuck 'Freight Train' was. But he never got to ask, green eyes coming across an extremely large dark-skinned man that couldn't possibly fit through any normal sized door, watching as he made his way over. Clearly the guy was a bodyguard, especially when you add the "don't fuck with me" attitude that hung around the guy like a cologne.

Well, at least Kendall didn't have to worry about James' safety.

His sister's on the other hand...

He turned back to Logan, focusing on their conversation rather than the intimidating bald man heading towards them. "Yeah, no way am I letting my sister go with some dude I don't know."

The smaller male looked like he understood, but at the same time, didn't like the response. "Would you feel better if she went with Freight Train and I go with you?" he suggested, as the mentioned male stopped behind him.

Kendall's eyebrow raised for the third time in the past minute, arms folded over his chest. "Okay, where the hell am I going?" he questioned, seriously confused about what the fuck was going on. "And why isn't Katie going with me?"

His little sister's body language mimicked his, clearly having no problem with the huge guy behind Logan.

"She'll be joining you guys when she's done."

Kendall's confusion grew even more, wondering exactly who "you guys" were. Well, okay, he had an idea of who it _could_ be, considering it was Logan who had approached them and telling the blond to come with. But Kendall was back to refusing letting his hopes getting too high. He'd managed to survive the afternoon in tact—mostly, except for a few new bruises—and he was gonna keep it that way.

"Yeah, I'm lost," he pointed out, rubbing his forehead then refolding his arms.

The short brunet let out a harsh sigh, looking around to make sure no one else was within earshot. Taking a step forward, he spoke in a volume low enough for only the blond to hear. "James wants to see you."

Those five words stopped Kendall's heart, those fucking lame-ass butterflies back in his stomach. _James_ wanted to see _him_. He didn't know why, didn't really care. Just the fact that the singer had a desire to be around him again was enough. He was ready to yell "fuck the world" and take off running in the direction where James would be, to not stop until he was in the other male's arms, looking into those eyes, breathing the same air as him. He wanted to hear those words he'd been dreaming about, hear them from those perfect lips about how the pop star wanted to keep the teenager to himself, to never let him go, to just stay in that moment, just the two of them, forever.

But there was still his little sister.

Tilting his head up, he looked at Freight Train, saw the seriousness on his face, saw the large frame that could level a tank and not get a scratch, saw the "don't fuck with me" attitude up close. The guy was most likely hired to protect James and hired because he was damn good at his job. If he could keep an international pop star safe from crazed fangirls, surely he could take care of an eleven year old in a small crowd.

"You swear nothing will happen to my sister?" he double-checked, hand on Katie's upper back.

Freight Train put his right hand over his heart, the vow on his face as well as in his voice. "I'll protect her like she's my own."

Okay, his voice was a little higher than Kendall imagined it would be. But whatever, that didn't mean shit. Not like he was gonna fight someone off with his voice.

The teenager nodded, turning his head and tilting it down to look at his sister. "Katie?"

"One condition," she started, looking up at the bodyguard, finger raised. "You give me a ride."

Freight Train smirked, seemingly amused by her moxy. "Sure."

"Sweet!" She turned to the male on her left. "Later, big brother." Stepping over, she slightly hopped up as the bodyguard caught her, holding her bridal style.

"Fellas," he stated, looking at Logan then Kendall, before carrying Katie over towards the merch booth.

Kendall turned and watched, hoping he made the right choice.

"You ready?" Logan's voice cut into his thoughts, reminding the younger male why he'd let his sister go off with the large male in the first place.

James wanted to see him.

Turning back, Kendall nodded, trying to calm himself down. Last thing he needed to do was act like a fanboy—on the outside anyway—and especially not in front of the guy he was fanboying over.

If that was even a word. Fanboying.

Logan gave a reassuring smile, clapping the blond once on the arm before leading him back the way they'd come, then even further, stopping outside a door with a sheet of paper taped to it, printed message alerting everyone to what it was.

"_James Diamond Dressing Room._"

"All right, man," the shorter male started. "He's right in there. Just knock on the door first." Another clap, this time on the back. "See you 'round." One more smile, then Logan walked off to—well, Kendall didn't know. Didn't give a shit either.

Facing the door, he thought of the male on the other side, wondering what he was doing, what he was thinking, why he had his best friend track a random fan down, what exactly he needed or wanted to say.

'_Only one way to find out._'

For once, his brain wasn't being a dick and actually made sense.

Kendall took a deep breath, shoring up his courage once again, as he raised his hand and knocked on the metal door.


	8. The Many Uses For Lips

_**A/N: **__So, this one fought me, too. It was, like, a couple paragraphs, then two days of nothing. Then a few paragraphs. Then a couple more days of nothing. Then I some more writing, but I kept getting interrupted and everything just kept leaving my head and it was a challenge to get it back, but here it is!_

_And right now, I'm tired and I'm achy and I'm in need of a shower, which none of you needed to know. If you're even reading this. I bet half of you just skip these notes and just get straight to the update. I could just put anything here. Bleep blap bloop! I put that on my friend's FaceBook wall today. It's the phrase of the day I guess..._

_Right anyway, time to be serious. Um. Don't think I need to legally cover my ass over anything in this chapter. Although I will say...Freight Train has my back so there will be no killing of the author! Masbabies, you won't know what happens, the whole thing. Just don't do it. Okay? Okay._

_Enough rambling. On with the update!_

* * *

Kendall inhaled deeply, puffing his cheeks up, before blowing the air out harshly. Raising his right hand, he knocked on the metal door in front of him, one that had a piece of paper taped to it that marked the room behind as James Diamond's dressing room, the room that James' best friend Logan had led him in front of after stating the singer wanted to see Kendall. See _him_, just some random metal head teenager who never thought he'd be at a pop show, much less about to figuratively lose his shit because he was about to talk to the star.

God, this entire situation was a total mind fuck.

A muffled "c'min" sounded out from within the room, Kendall's heart stopping at the word. He had no idea what the fuck to expect when he opened the door, no idea why the singer wanted to talk to him, if he even wanted to talk. Fuck, what if he knew? What if he was aware of Kendall's secret obsession with the guy? What if the blond wasn't as good at hiding his feelings and his thoughts as he believed he was? What if he was about to be torn a new one by the pop star, told to back the fuck off, told to get a fucking life and/or go to Hell?

Nah. Surely a security guard would do that. Plus Kendall highly doubted the celeb would ruin his rep by being a dick, no matter how much the teen may have deserved it.

Deciding there was only one way to find out exactly what James wanted, Kendall grabbed hold of the knob, twisting it and pushing the door open before stepping inside.

His eyes immediately found the pop star, watching him walk away from the door, fingers running through his bangs, fixing his hair. His leather jacket was now gone, black bandana visible around his left wrist. The blond closed the door, the sound making the singer stop and turn around, their eyes locking once more. Kendall felt his heart stopping, the organ restarting twice as fast as he witnessed the corner of James' lips slightly curve up, several emotions flickering across his face, although it seemed like the singer was trying to hide them all.

"Hey," the brunet breathed out, shoulders relaxing, hands dropping to his sides. He seemed relieved, like he'd been worried about whether or not the blond would actually come. Which clearly showed how little they knew each other. Fuck, this entire thing was so fucking weird.

"Hey," Kendall replied, swallowing hard, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying to hide the fact that they were shaking. A quick glance down showed him that his pounding heart wasn't outwardly visible. He just hoped he wasn't giving any other tell-tale signs as to how badly he was freaking the fuck out.

Which really, couldn't be helped. He was shut in a room with a guy he'd been lusting over for two months now, a guy that he had an intense connection with, a sexual chemistry so strong it caused goosebumps to break out over his flesh and his entire body to heat up, at the same time. And of course, it was made worse by the fact that it was now just the two of them, no one else around to worry about what they'd think if they saw something, to worry about being indecent in front of. So, of course, all Kendall could think about was how fast they could both get naked and get the pop star inside him. Or him inside the singer. He didn't care either way, as long as they had that skin-to-skin contact all over as they moved together and have it end with both of their stomachs painted white and a high so intense it put all his other fucks to shame. He wanted the singer to ruin other guys for him. Forever.

James looked around the blond, at the closed door, before meeting the younger male's green eyes once again. "Where's your sis?"

"With Freight Train at the merch booth."

The singer nodded, licking his lips, causing Kendall to imagine that tongue on his own lips—along with other parts of his anatomy.

Yeah, he should stop before he got a little too obvious about what he was thinking. Downside of being a dude.

"Figured you'd feel better having him with her, watching her," the pop star stated, hooking his thumbs in the back pockets of his tight jeans. "You're a good brother like that."

Kendall snorted, rolling his eyes, thinking about how wrong the brunet male was. "Yeah, not really."

"You got the tickets for her. That's something."

He rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging slightly. "I guess," he admitted reluctantly.

"It is." James flicked his head to the side, moving his bangs out his eyes. "I know how much VIP costs. Can't be easy for a college student to pay for that."

The younger male furrowed his brow, feeling lost, no idea how or why the other guy thought that about him. "I'm not in college."

Confusion set over the elder's face, his own eyebrows scrunched up. "You're not—how old are you?"

"Seventeen."

James eyebrow's lifted, hand shoved in his hair. He breathed out a "fuck" as he turned to the side, moving his hand down to smear over his face.

Kendall felt even more confused than ever. What the fuck did his age have to do with anything? Why was the singer so shocked that he was seventeen? Why did it matter so much?

Unless...

Whatever. Legal age of consent in Minnesota is sixteen, so Kendall was fine.

Well, if what he was assuming James was thinking was true, then he'd be fine. If not, then he'd just be sorely disappointed. Which seemed like nothing new at that point and was pretty much what he'd been setting himself up for the entire time. But considering the fact that James had sent his friend to go get Kendall so the two of them could be alone, there was definitely something going on that the singer wasn't admitting. At least not admitting it to Kendall.

Deciding the only way he was gonna get shit figured out was by asking, the blond finally opened his fucking mouth and said something. "What? Why the 'fuck'? Why the question about my age?"

The singer turned back, shaking his head before fixing his bangs. "Nothing. Just. Nothing." He fully faced the younger male, folding his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner. "You're not much of a fan of mine, are you?"

Kendall's eyes widened at the sudden subject change. The guy should've thrown up a fucking sign or some shit, like they do on the highway. "_About to throw you a curve by talking about something completely different. Prepare accordingly._"

James kept talking, not seeming to notice the other male's reaction, just continuing on with his explanation. "I mean, you have a metal shirt on—I like the '_Hot Damn_' on it, by the way," he commented, pointing to the tee covering Kendall's torso before refolding his arms. "Last time, it was a Dethklok shirt, so you're clearly-"

"Wait," the blond interrupted, not caring about being polite, only wanting to point something out, to get an explanation of a different kind. "You remember what I was wearing?" He tried to hide the excitement in his voice, the extreme joy, tamp down his emotions and not make it seem so completely obvious how badly he was freaking out by that small little slip the singer had let out. The guy had remembered what he was wearing, which meant he had to remember the blond himself. Right?

James' hazel eyes widened, mouth opening as he let out an "uh" as he clearly struggled to come up with a response. He ran his fingers through his bangs, fussing over them, clearing his throat as he put a flat expression on his face, recovering in a way. "Yeah, people show me pics of you onstage, ya know? A lot. They ask what happened between us and whatever, so I've seen that shirt a lot."

"Oh." Kendall felt his face fall as his heart sank. He wasn't remembered. The singer didn't memorize what he looked like or what he'd been wearing. He was just another fan.

"Yeeeah," the brunet stretched out the word, dropping his hand, shoving both in the pockets of his jeans. "So, anyway, I figure with the metal shirts and the fact that you brought your sister the tickets to this show, you're not really a fan of mine."

The blond's earlier inner-conflict about how much to reveal came back as he stood there, wondering what to say. He felt like he was in a lose-lose situation. He could lie and say he wasn't and risk having the singer's ego damaged and the teenager getting kicked out. Or he could tell the truth and say he wanted to be more than a fan and that the past two months have been spent pining over him, then risk getting kicked out for being an insane stalker.

He was fucked. And not in the good way.

Swallowing hard again, he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, something he seemed to be doing a lot that day. Yay, anxiety!

"Honestly?" he started, dropping his hand and slapping it against his thigh. "I wasn't."

"Wasn't?" the pop star questioned, clearly picking up on the wording, on the implication of that statement. "What changed your mind?"

Another internal debate before he decided "fuck it". If he gets kicked out, he gets kicked out. At least then he'd have some sort of answers.

"You looked at me."

James inhaled sharply, something flashing on his face, but before Kendall could figure it out, the singer turned away, hands shoved in his hair as he let out a groan, followed by the other male's name. "What are we doing?"

More confusion, Kendall feeling like he was living up to the stereotypes surrounding his hair color. "Uh, _you_ asked to talk to _me_, remember?" he told the singer's back, hand on his chest as he pointed to himself.

"I know, I know. I just..." The brunet trailed off, letting out a harsh sigh, turning around as he dropped his hands from his hair, letting them hang by his sides before he started rambling. "I saw you in the crowd that night and wanted to bring you onstage, then I saw you at the meet and greet and I just-" He paused, shaking his head before continuing with his fast paced spiel. "Then I went to talk to Logan, but when I turned around you were gone and-" He suddenly stopped, another harsh sigh leaving him as he put a hand on his hip, left hand shoved in his hair again.

Kendall felt his heart stop with James' pause, breath held in his lungs, and he had a feeling that if he was sitting down, he'd be on the edge of the chair once more. It was so weird how he had all these seemingly life-altering moments happen recently, after not having one for a few years, not since his dad bailed. But now he was finding himself, yet again, waiting on someone's words that could change his future in some way.

It was what he'd been waiting on for months, since that moment onstage, since he'd locked eyes with the singer and felt his hand within his own. He'd been longing for answers, needing them, needing a resolution to this whole thing. And now he was about to get it.

As soon as James found his tongue.

Swallowing yet another lump in his throat, he spoke, low, his voice barely able to say the words any louder. "And what?"

But the singer didn't speak. He didn't give Kendall any answers, didn't tell him anything, didn't voice his thoughts. Instead, James just dropped his hand, staring at the blond with hard, darkened eyes. His body tensed up, breathing harsh, jaw clenched, and it looked like he was fighting himself.

Only he lost.

That same wild, dark look in his eyes, the singer took the three long steps necessary to close the gap between himself and Kendall. The blond didn't even think to move, didn't want to, not that he had any time. Because it seemed like it only took about half a second before James was holding the blond's face in his hands and smashing their lips together.

The teenager's eyes widened in shock, his own body tensing up, before the surprise washed over him and he realized exactly what the hell was going on. James Diamond. Was _kissing_ him.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

It took only about two seconds for the shock to wear off, Kendall's hands wrapping around James' wrists—well, as much as they could with a bandana around the left one—and his lips moving against the other male's. And holy shit was it the greatest kiss ever. He felt chills run down his spine, felt his skin heat up once again, felt all the blood rushing through his head, thoughts leaving, until all he could do was feel.

James' hands moved slightly, his fingers gripping onto Kendall's beanie, pulling his head closer to the singer's, tilting his own skull to kiss him deeper. He pressed his body into the slightly shorter male's, backing him over to the wall next to the door, pushing the blond against it with his muscular frame. And god did they fit together perfectly, especially when the singer moved his hands to the teen's hips, pulling them against his, their pelvises grinding together in a delicious sort of friction.

The brunet's tongue snaked out and the blond didn't hesitate to part his lips and let him inside, greeting the muscle with his own. James' tongue rolled around Kendall's, pressing, insisting on getting inside his mouth before exploring every nook, every crevice of it. He managed to find places that the teen had no idea existed, had no idea would affect him that way. So the moan that Kendall let out was not his fault.

He could feel James smile against his lips, practically feel how cocky he was acting, knowing he caused that noise to come out the younger male. So, as revenge—plus he really just wanted to hear the other male make the same sound—he sucked on the tongue in his mouth, flicking his own muscle on it, giving a small taste of what he could do with other parts of the singer's anatomy.

The groan James let out nearly made Kendall come right then and there. The way the singer tightened his grip on the teen's hips, or how he ground his burgeoning erection against the younger male's even harder, didn't help.

Their pelvises moved together in a perfect rhythm, like they'd been doing this for years, not minutes. Kendall found himself wishing their clothes were gone once more, wishing he could feel the singer's half hard cock against his own, wishing he could touch and be touched. His entire body was on fire and his dick was suffocating in his jeans and all he wanted was to get naked and get the other male inside him.

But he had to settle for touching what he could, his arms wrapping around the elder male's neck, fingers tangling in his brown hair, tugging slightly. The growl James let out was animalistic, hips bucking hard, practically shoving Kendall's against the wall. He pulled his mouth away from the younger male, both of them breathing hard, both of them still rocking their pelvises. The singer's eyes were practically black, lids only half open as he met the other male's eyes, his cheeks red, hair mussed. And Kendall had never seen anything hotter in his life.

"Fuck, Kendall," James breathed out, still panting, fingers digging into the smaller male's hips, most likely bruising him. He licked his lips, causing Kendall to groan, wanting that tongue back on his, on his skin, definitely on his cock.

The blond bucked his hips, tugging the other male's hair so his head tilted back. He moved his own head closer to the singer's neck, trailing open mouth kisses from his shoulder to his ear. "God, I hope you do."

It was like a switch was flipped inside of James. His entire body tensed up, breathing stopped, as his eyes shot open. He released his grip on the younger male's sides, unwrapping the blond's arms from around his neck as he stepped back, allowing Kendall to see the stoney expression on his face. It was as though an emotionless mask was pulled down over the singer's face, covering up the need, the desire, the lust that had been there before. The only hints that those things had actually been there were the red-tint still on his cheeks, the fact that his chest was still rising and falling at a harsher rate, the mussed up hair. Even the look in his eyes was different, the clear sexual want of before disappearing and being replaced by a mix of panic and confusion.

Kendall opened his mouth to say something, but never got a chance to speak. James had breathed out a curse before opening the door and storming out, leaving the blond alone and confused in the dressing room.

"What the fuck?" the teen whispered out to no one, leaning against the wall to hold himself up. He held his hands out in front of him, seeing them shaking, feeling how weak his knees were. He'd never been so affected by a kiss before, never been so turned on, never been so...so...god, he didn't even have the fucking words for it. He just knew that the flames that licked at him when the singer touched him got worse, like he was thrown into an active volcano, and he still felt overheated. He was hot, achy, horny, and most of all, very fucking confused.

He knew for a fact James had felt the same thing, had the same reaction. He could feel it throbbing against his own erection, feel it in the way the singer's fingers bruised his sides, hear it in the moans the pop star let out. So it wasn't like the brunet hadn't been enjoying himself.

Yet he still left.

And now? Now Kendall had no clue what to do. Was he supposed to stay and wait for the singer to return? Was he supposed to leave, the pop star being done with him?

That one seriously hurt his heart.

Rubbing the center of his chest with the heel of his hand, he spotted a mirror on the left wall of the room. He walked over, taking in his appearance. The beanie meant his hair wasn't messed up, but his cheeks were reddened, although not to the extent of James'. His pupils were still blown though, his yellow-green eyes now a dark emerald color. Yeah, definitely obvious that he was turned on. And that wasn't even including the hard-on he was sporting in his jeans.

Reaching down, he rearranged himself, hiding his erection to the best of his ability, before adjusting his tee around his waist. He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks before blowing it out harshly, still unable to wrap his mind around what happened. The hottest make out session of his life, and the guy had run out on him.

"Great job, Knight," he muttered to himself, shaking his head at his reflection.

Adjusting his beanie on his head, he turned and headed to the door, deciding it was best to just leave. The last thing he wanted—or his heart needed—was to sit around waiting for James to return, only to have the singer be shocked or aggravated or demanding to know why he was still hanging around. Plus he couldn't deal with the embarrassment of facing the guy who'd just had his tongue in his mouth. Especially not after how their make out session ended.

The hallway wasn't entirely empty, but thankfully the few people that _were _there were too wrapped up in whatever they needed to do so they didn't notice Kendall, didn't realize there was a strange teenager in a metal shirt wandering about, one without a pass. Shit, if security found him, his ass was fucking dead. Or at least thrown out. And wouldn't Katie just fucking love him forever for that?

Oh, shit, Katie. The thought of his younger sister had him stopping dead. He wondered if she was okay, where she was at, what was going on with her. Wondered how he was gonna explain what the hell just happened and why she was no longer meeting him and James backstage as originally planned.

Ohhh, things just kept getting fucking better, didn't they?

He breathed in deep, surprised that his lungs were even able to expand considering how tight his chest felt. He really needed to get a grip on himself, really needed to recover and get the fuck over this shit before his sister grew suspicious—well, _more_ suspicious, considering her questions earlier—but most of all, he needed to get the fuck out the backstage area before security helped him do exactly that. Or worse. James found him.

Palm of his right hand rubbing the center of his chest, he made his way through the halls, remembering the path he'd taken with Logan only a few minutes before. Had it seriously been only a few minutes? Damn, it felt like an entire lifetime ago.

He walked as fast as he could without seeming like a freak, like some nutjob who'd just planted a bomb and was tryna get the fuck outta dodge before it went off. But walking too slow would also bring too much attention to him, so he had to try and find a balance between the two speeds, all the while trying not to show what he was feeling on his face and try to look normal as he walked with a still hard dick that was being pinched by his belt.

Yeah, that was always fucking fun.

The trip back to the main lobby probably took as long as the trip to the dressing room, but it felt different. Kendall wasn't sure if it felt longer or shorter or what. The blood still hadn't returned to his brain, despite the fact that it felt like the organ was swimming, drowning, sloshing around in something that was making shit really hard to think about or figure out. Being turned on did that to a guy, made them think with the wrong head, made them get all fucked up—in several different ways, usually—and caused a whole lotta problems.

Like trying to flee a backstage area without actually looking like you're fleeing and without being spotted by a guy you really didn't wanna see after the epic fail ending to their make out session.

Yeah. That.

He finally reached the lobby, looking left and seeing nothing. Turning his head to the right, he saw the VIP crowd milling about between the merch and the door that led to the main part of the arena. His eyes scanned for Katie, easily locating her since she was standing next to a seven-foot wall of muscle in a dark suit. Freight Train was like one of those giant neon signs located on the Vegas Strip, practically screaming "_Hey, here's your sister, jackass! Ya know, the one you promised to watch over the entire night, the one you promised to protect no matter what, the one who you left alone with a stranger so you could try and hook up with a rock star? Yeah, _that_ sister!_"

So, yeah, he could add "guilt" to the list of emotions he was currently trying to balance. Too bad he gave up on that whole juggling phase when he was a six. Only lasted a week, could've come in handy at that moment.

Whatever. He was gonna have enough shit to regret the next day, if he didn't regret it by the end of the night. Instead, he focused on the present moment, on making his way down the lobby, hands pulling his pants up at the sides, hiding a wince as the movement caused the fabric to rub against his still hard cock.

Freight Train and Katie were walking over. Well, the bodyguard was. The young girl was running over, waving her hand, bag hanging from her elbow. She yelled out her older brother's name, huge smile on her face, loosely curled hair blowing back behind her as she neared him, Converses slapping against the hard floor. But as she got closer, she started slowing, that grin falling. Clearly the smirk Kendall was faking wasn't as believable as he thought he was.

With another heavy sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets, slowing to a stop in front of his younger sister. He wracked his brain, trying to figure out exactly what to say, how to explain why he was in the lobby instead of waiting for her in the dressing room as originally planned.

But, as always, Katie was quicker than he gave her credit for.

"We aren't hanging backstage, are we." It was more statement than question, as she folded her arms over her chest, hip sticking out. So much 'tude for such a little person.

"Nope."

She nodded, lips pursed, eyes not looking at her brother. After a long moment, she finally made a move. Punching him in the arm.

"Katie!" He covered the place she'd hit with his hand. She had a helluva punch for a small thing. "What the hell?!"

"You're a moron," she stated, glaring at him through hard dark eyes.

He rolled his own green orbs, not wanting to get into it with her. Not here, and especially not now.

"And you're an even bigger moron if you think I'm one, too."

Oh, yay, more confusion! 'Cause he clearly hadn't felt that enough in the past ten minutes. "What are you talking about, Katie?"

"All that stuff I said earlier about those weird looks and him knowing your name. Plus James wanted to see you again, plus that girl talking about 'That St Paul Guy'-" she put airquotes around the title "-who was brought onstage during James' last show here."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit, fuck. Katie knew. Katie fucking knew.

But he kept his poker face on, eyebrow cocked, making like he had no clue what his crazy little sister was talking about. "Yeah, no idea what you're getting at."

"What. Is going on. Between you and James?"

"Nothing," he said flatly, looking her right in the eyes. "Just like I said."

She threw her arms out to the side as she practically yelled the next words. "_He knew your name_!"

Kendall put his hands out towards her, knocking her arms down as he looked around, hoping she hadn't attracted any sort of attention with that sudden outburst. But the only difference he could see was that Freight Train was now gone. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise. He'd been asked to watch over Katie while her older brother had gone to talk to James. Only now the blond teen was back, so the bodyguard's temporary babysitting duty was over.

The elder Knight dropped his hands, letting out a sigh. He knew his younger sister well, knew she wasn't gonna let anything go until she got a reasonable explanation, one that was feasible, one that she could actually believe and he could actually sell.

So he thought up a good lie.

"Look," he started, eyes trained on her. "Carlos and I met James after the last show, okay? Carlos made me wait by the buses for the guy, doing that puppy dog face thing that no one can say 'no' to without feeling like the worst person on the entire fu-reaking planet.."

Katie nodded, knowing exactly what face her older brother was referring to, as she folded her arms over her chest once more.

"_And_ I didn't tell you," he continued his lie, "because I knew you'd get all pissed at not meeting him before with us. You were already throwing a 'tude cause you couldn't even go to the show."

More nodding, the younger Knight sibling clearly buying the bullshit the elder was selling. Thank fuck. Now that that was over, they could get on with the rest of their evening, enjoy the concert—if that was possible for him anymore—then go home so he could fully mope and sink into the depressive black hole he was fighting to keep himself out of.

"Can we go find our seats now?" he questioned, both eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Not until you tell me why he wanted to see you."

God. Fucking. Dammit.

He should've known that shit wouldn't be that easy, not when Katie Knight was involved. No, she had to nose her way into shit that wasn't any of her business, want to know every last detail, especially when it had nothing to do with her in any way. And the fact that it involved an internationally known pop star whom she just happened to have a crush on just made her all the more curious and all the more annoying.

"He wanted to give me my wallet back."

'_Wow. Really, Knight?_'

'_Oh, shut up, no one asked you!_'

"Your wallet?" she questioned, eyebrow quirked.

"Yeah."

"The one that is attached to your jeans with a chain?" she pointed to said chain as she spoke.

Fuck.

"Chain got loose. It happens."

"Really, cause I do-"

"_Katie_!" He interrupted, fed up with the interrogation, fed up with having to lie, fed up with James fucking Diamond and his fucking mind games and his fucking perfect kiss that still had Kendall reeling.

Seriously, he was fucked up over a _kiss_? Jesus Christ, next thing you know, he'd be wanting to curl up in a ball, sobbing while eating carton upon carton of Ben and Jerry's. No fucking way. He'd done enough chick-type bullshit lately. He was at least getting wasted like an actual man would.

Smearing a hand over his face, he let out a harsh sigh, trying to get his emotions back in control. The situation wasn't his sister's fault and he knew that, so snapping at her was unnecessary and grounds for him to get bitched at by his mom for being a dick. He needed to chill the fuck out and start treating her better.

"_You're a good brother like that._"

Okay, it was bad enough having his own inner-monologue that constantly argued and disagreed with his every thought. He didn't need fucking Diamond's voice in there, too.

"Sorry," the blond apologized to his sister, dropping his hand and shoving both in the pockets of his jeans. "Can we just drop the twenty questions and go find our seats?"

"One condition," she stated, small smirk playing on her lips, Kendall wondering why he hadn't seen that coming. "You buy me a soft pretzel and a soda first."

A small tugging was felt pulling at the side of his own lips, a slight feeling of amusement taking over. "Whatever you want, baby sister."

"Darn straight, big brother."

She turned, Kendall moving to her left, hand on her shoulders as they headed to one of the food stands. And as they stood in line waiting, he shoved everything to do with James Diamond the person—since he was gonna have to deal with the singer in a couple hours—to the back of his mind, focusing solely on his earlier plan of just enjoying a good concert with his younger sister, not letting anything negative get him down.


	9. Trying to Escape the Inescapable

_**A/N:**__ Honestly, I didn't plan on writing any scenes of the concert, just quick lil allusions to what happened, but Kendall had other plans. Uncooperative bastard. Guess he wasn't quite done with James just yet, but who could blame him? He's still a bastard though._

_Please don't hate me, but the line about the boy bands and Nickelodeon shows, I agree with. BTR is pretty much the only boy band and Nick show I can stand. Besides Spongebob, cause who can hate Spongebob?!_

_Also, I hate Carly Rae Jepsen. I'm fairly certain that "Call Me Maybe", Rebecca Black's "Friday", and anything by OneDirection is what gets played on rotation in Hell._

_Anyway, don't hate me, don't sue me, and say nice things :D_

* * *

Kendall loved music, always had, whether it was the lullabies his mom sang to him and Katie when they were babies, or the Sesame Street CDs his dad played in the car when he was a kid, or the metal and hardcore music he discovered when he was in his early teens. It was the way songs could express what he was feeling but couldn't say for whatever reason, the way he could listen to a certain tune and go "that is so fucking me", the way it was able to speak to something deep down inside of him.

But most of all, Kendall loved music because it was an escape. He loved how he could put on his headphones and block out the rest of the world. He loved how he could close his eyes and get lost in the words, the melodies, the feelings behind it. He loved how he could go to a concert and forget all about whatever bullshit was going on in his life.

Which was exactly what he did during that fucking show. He forgot about James Diamond as a person, forgot about what happened in the dressing room, at the meet and greet, on the stage. He focused on the music, even going so far as to block out the vocals, listening to the guitar parts and thinking about how easy and simple they were. He could play that shit no problem, probably could do it in a coma.

Coma sounded pretty awesome actually. Chances were he wouldn't be able to feel anything, or say something that would cause the guy he was making out with to leave the room, or deal with fucking confusing ass pop stars.

But chances also were that he'd be stuck in a never-ending dream where he constantly rehashed those moments or had his overly imaginative—and x-rated—mind take them even further, with no chance of ever waking up and having it end.

Okay, so 'no' on the coma then.

But no never-ending deep sleep meant he was still at that fucking James Diamond concert, trying to ignore the hip-swaying dance moves, trying not to remember how it felt to have them against his own, grinding, rutting, thrusting. Instead, Kendall turned his head to the right and slightly back, checking on his sister as she stood on the chair next to his, screaming the words to the dance-pop song. She seemed to be having fun, fist in the air, huge grin on her face, eyes glued to the show onstage. Everything had been forgotten by her, too, no more worries about school or kids her age or the stock market or—best of all—what had happened between her brother and the pop star.

Kendall felt his lips tug up at the side, cheek dimpling at the sight of his sister having fun. He felt a sense of pride, of joy, knowing he'd put that grin on her face.

But all that went away when the song changed, Kendall well aware of what was set to happen. James was about to go into the audience.

Another lump formed in the blond's throat and he automatically started trying to swallow it. And while his brain was trying to figure out if it was okay for his heart to pound that hard, that fast, so much in one day, his eyes were busy seeking out the brunet he thought he never wanted to see again.

And then he found the motherfucker and he started wondering how he could actually think he'd manage to go the rest of his life without seeing that face, meeting those eyes, watching those lips. God, he was so fucking pathetic. The guy had left him without a word, making it pretty clear he wanted nothing to do with the teen. Yet Kendall still wanted him. Bad.

James did his usual greet the fans thing, shaking hands, giving hugs, still managing to sing perfectly into the mike as he headed down the aisle. Kendall kept his eyes glued to the singer, waiting for the elder male to turn around, waiting to feel if that spark was still there as it had been last time, waiting to see if things were ruined between the two of them.

He didn't have to linger in anticipation much longer though. First line of the first chorus and James turned around, hazel eyes finding green ones.

And there it was, that connection, that pull, that indescribable force that had Kendall wanting to climb over fans to get to James so he could recreate what happened in the dressing room.

But as soon as their eyes locked, James' face changed. His smile faltered, his eyes darkened, several emotions flashing across his face, none of which had to do with the song he was belting out. Then he looked away, fake smile plastered on his mug, like nothing happened.

And to the crowd, it seemed exactly like that. The whole thing had lasted maybe a second, the pop star not missing a note. But Kendall noticed the shift, the change. He could see how tense the singer had gotten, realized the brunet wasn't looking at his side of the aisle anymore, knew the reasons why. Because the blond had fucked up by suggesting the elder male sleep with him.

But really, what else was he supposed to think was gonna happen? He'd been invited to the guy's dressing room, pinned against the wall as his mouth was attacked, pelvises rubbing together as if they could actually make fire with that kind of wood. In Kendall's experience, that sorta shit led to clothes being removed and dicks being covered. Not once had a guy swore then exited, leaving the blond alone, hard, and confused.

A million reasons flashed through Kendall's head, all hoping to explain James' behavior, but it all boiled down to one thing: the blond had said something the brunet didn't wanna hear. Meaning that the teen had totally fucked up his chances with the literal guy of his dreams.

'_Yeah, really good job, you dumb fuck._'

He didn't bother arguing with his mind that time. Hard to disagree with the truth.

A heavy sigh left him, unheard through the loud music booming through the PA and the screams that pierced his eardrums as the singer got closer.

Wait. He was getting closer. He was near their row, heading right over. He still hadn't looked at Kendall, but whatever. He was walking towards the blond and his sister.

The teen had no idea what to do with himself. He crossed his arms over his chest, only to drop them a second later. He thought about putting his hands in his pockets, but decided against it, wondering instead what he should do if the singer actually went up to him. Should he ignore the star? Should he put his hand out and hope the other male touched it, shook it, something?

He grabbed his jeans at either side, hiking them up a bit, figuring he should let the elder guy dictate what happens, have him make the first move.

Assuming, of course, that James even came over to the Knight siblings.

Which he did. Kendall wasn't sure if Fate liked him or not.

He settled on 'not', since the pop star didn't even look at him as he finished the chorus. Instead, those hazel eyes focused on Katie as she stood on the chair by the aisle, slightly bouncing as she smiled widely. James grinned back, a genuine one, as he pulled the mike away from his mouth, wrapping his free right arm around her torso and pulling her into a hug. She hugged back, smile growing when he kissed her cheek.

Kendall couldn't appreciate the cuteness of the situation, couldn't get mad at the guy for making him fall more. He was too busy trying to make sure he wasn't showing the intense hurt he was feeling inside. James was _right there_, but was completely ignoring the blond, totally pretending the teen wasn't there. And Kendall just stood there, feeling like his heart was gonna-

Completely explode out his fucking chest.

James pulled his arm back from around Katie, reaching out and stroking his hand across Kendall's chest, making the teenager inhale sharply, lips parted, eyes going wide before the lids fell halfway down. Sure, to anyone else, it looked like an accidental graze, but the blond knew better. The brunet had turned his hand around, fingers purposely grazing the younger male's nipples, ones that were still hard and sensitive from earlier activities. Activities that only the two of them knew about.

And, as always, the touch felt like fire, like the taller male had trailed a match across the smaller, rather than his fingers. Kendall wanted to hate him for being a tease, especially after how their previous encounter ended, but instead, he found himself craving more of it—and in other areas of his anatomy. Which, in turn, made him hate the singer.

Confusing much?

Kendall swallowed hard, snapping himself out of the daze he'd just been put in. James was gone, causing a slight panic in the blond. But it was dealt with fairly quickly as he spotted the pop star a couple rows back, singing the second verse.

As though he knew he had the younger male's attention, knew those green eyes were trained on him, the brunet turned around, locking eyes. An apology was clearly written all over his face, one easily read by the teen.

Kendall knew right then and there that whatever had happened between them was over.

* * *

The rest of the show went by uneventfully, Kendall just standing there, not paying attention to anything happening onstage. Honestly, it was how he imagined his first James Diamond concert to go. He didn't think his second one would end with him not remembering anything after the singer's excursion into the crowd.

Okay, that was sort of a lie. Kendall remembered the singer picking some random blonde girl from the audience and bringing her onstage, remembered the dusty remnants of his heart falling to his stomach and making him feel nauseous. And as the pop star led the fan to the stage, the teenage boy excused himself to the bathroom, ignoring his younger sister's confused looks and questions of where he was going.

The bathroom had been empty, not surprising since about ninety-nine percent of the crowd was female and both genders were currently enjoying the headlining act's show. Kendall went straight to the sinks, bending over one and gripping the sides, head hanging. He took several deep breaths, calming himself down, repeatedly reminding himself that he had no right to be jealous, the singer wasn't his, and it was just a crush on a celeb. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he told himself to stop acting like such a chick—again—and to man the fuck up.

One last deep breath, cheeks puffing out, blowing the air out harshly, then he left the bathroom.

The rest of the show passed in a blur, the blond spending most of the time spacing out, repeating to himself that it was just another celeb crush and all his reactions were caused by teenage hormones and a six month long dry spell, that the pounding heart and flipping stomach were due to him being starstruck by a good-looking pop star. And, as much as it hurt to think, he had to believe that he was nothing more than a convenient fuck. Sure, he'd never heard about James hooking up with groupies, but that didn't mean it didn't happen. The brunet was young, rich, famous, and hot as fuck, plus he clearly had plenty women available for a night's entertainment. Kendall had lost count of the number of x-rated tweets he'd seen sent to the singer, the posts about sexual acts female fans would perform on him, admissions of giving up their v-cards to him. James would be pretty dumb to pass on opportunities like those. Or a pussy.

Being pinned against the wall with a tongue down his throat proved to the blond that the brunet definitely wasn't afraid of taking a shot on something.

Yeah, reminiscing about that wasn't helping anything.

The final lyric was belted out, final note played, confetti cannons shooting out purple and black squares of crepe paper over the audience. The crowd cheered loudly, the sounds of a thousand tweenage screams piercing Kendall's ears and snapping him out of his space out session. The houselights came on, Carly Rae motherfucking Jepsen playing over the PA system, fans filing out as the blond looked around in a daze, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Turning to his right, he saw his sister crouched down, feet back on the floor, picking confetti off the ground and putting it in her VIP bag. Seeming satisfied with her gathering, she straightened up, slinging her bag straps over her right shoulder, holding her bag of merch in her hand, as she turned to her older brother, huge grin on her face.

"That was _awesome_!" she yelled, voice rough from all the screaming she'd done over the past hour and a half. Her eyes were wide, sparkling, the joy clearly evident over her face.

Kendall couldn't hold back a grin of his own at her expression. Not that he wanted to. His baby sister's first concert and she obviously had a blast, all thanks to him. And a little bit to James Diamond, but whatever, he didn't count.

The blond snatched his bag from where it sat under his chair, practically choking the purple fabric in his fist. Putting his free left hand on his sister's shoulder, he kept a grip on her as they headed up the aisle, out the arena, and into the main lobby. It wasn't until they were outside and he was pointing her in the direction of the car before either of them spoke.

And, fucking shocker, it was Katie.

"Wait," she ordered, stopping on the large concrete walkway outside the main entrance, giving Kendall no choice but to pause, turn, and look at her. "Aren't we gonna go to the buses?"

Okay, he was _sooo _not in the mood for this. He'd been ready to get home before the concert even started. And now his sister wanted to delay his mopefest? Yeah, okay, she didn't know that, wasn't aware of his plans for the rest of the night—and possibly longer—so he couldn't be pissed about that. But still.

He kept his response short, sweet, and to the point, guaranteeing that there was no misunderstanding or misinterpreting. "No."

"Why not? You did last time."

The elder Knight managed to hide his confusion before it showed on his face, quickly figuring out what the fuck she was talking about, remembering his earlier lie. Then it was a matter of trying to come up with a good excuse for why the two of them weren't going bus hunting, the perfect one soon coming to mind.

"Because we promised Mom we'd go home immediately after the show ended."

That trademark evil smirk of Katie's spread across her face, arms folded over her chest, merch bag hanging down in front of her small frame. "She doesn't need to know. Not like she's aware of what time the show ends or how long the car ride would be."

Okay, the little evil mastermind had a good point, he had to admit that. And normally, he'd be all for giving their mom a metaphorical middle finger by pretty much doing everything she didn't want him to—not that this was all that rebellious in the slightest—but not this time. Not when this time, his rebellion would bring him face to face with James Diamond. No, the blond was taking a page from the brunet's book by running away and avoiding the other male.

Not to mention ignoring the ache in his chest and the voice in his head that was screaming at him to just go along with Katie's suggestion.

"No," he repeated himself, voice firm, not wavering, not a hint that he had even remotely considered what she said. He put a hand on her back between her shoulderblades, forcing her to walk. "We're going home."

Looking both ways, they crossed the road, Katie looking up at him as she continued on her mission to get Kendall—and herself—to the bus lot. "Don't you wanna see him one last time?" she questioned. "Don't you wanna say goodbye?"

He didn't hesitate, didn't need to think it over before speaking this "no".

"Why not?"

"Let it go, Katie." His voice was full of the frustration he was feeling as they reached the aisle where he'd parked hours before, hand still pushing his sister forward.

"Something happened, didn't it?" she questioned as she stopped once again, Kendall doing the same and turning to her. "When you went to the dressing room? He find something in your wallet?"

The blond's eyebrows furrowed. "What? When did he have my wallet?"

"I knew it!" the young girl yelled, pointing at her big brother. "I knew that was a lie!" Her smile was a cocky one as she folded her arms over her chest. "So, tell me what happened."

"_Nothing happened_." If his life was a TV show, that would be his catchphrase. He'd said it often enough that night.

She rolled her eyes, clearly not believing him. "Then why don't you wanna go to the buses? And don't give me that crap about Mom because you never listen to her."

Eleven year olds should never make so much sense. They should be off squealing over some lameass boy band or some shit show on Nickelodeon, not making highly intelligent observations on things beyond their mental capacity or age level.

Kendall refolded his arms over his chest, reminding her of who the adult in this situation was. "Because I'm tired as hell and just wanna go home, okay?" He watched as she opened her mouth, but spoke before she could utter a syllable. "We'll wait by the buses next time."

That changed Katie's mood in a flash, eyes lighting up, huge smile forming on her face as she let out an excited gasp. "'Next time'? So you're taking me to another James Diamond concert?!"

'_God no._'

"If we leave right now, sure."

'_Idiot._'

'_Yeah, I know._'

Katie bounced in place, letting out a small squeal, finally acting her age. "Are we gonna get VIP again? Ooh! We should bring Carlos with us. He'd be way more fun than you." She walked past her brother, heading down the aisle towards their car.

"Gee, thanks," he muttered as he turned and followed.

"I'm just sayin'," she stated as he walked alongside her. "You were way moody and mopey and you won't tell me why and-"

"And if you bring it up again, I'll make it so you never get to go to another concert ever, much less a James Diamond one."

She held her hands up in surrender. "Dropping it."

"Yeah, yeah." He dug his keys out of his jean pocket, unlocking the passenger door and holding it open for Katie. He knew she'd do as she said she was going to, knew she'd let the whole thing go. But unfortunately, he also knew it was only for the time being and eventually, her curiosity would get the best of her and she'd bring it up again. He just had no idea what the hell he'd say to her when it happened, how to explain it, especially when he was clueless about it, too.


	10. Because PCD Wasn't Enough Fun 1st Time

_**A/N: **__Wow, do I have some notes for this one. *ahem*_

_First off, super special shout out to rockchickwrites(slash-blogs) for all the amazing fanart and manips, including the new cover photo on here. LOVE it! So awesome. And also shout-out to SWACGleekFreak, kendallschmidtandcake (tumblr name, dunno your name on here, sorry), and mah Nathers for their fanart. Amazing, guys! So freaking cool to see. Gives me many happies, so thanks a million._

_Speaking of happies, I HAVE TWO-HUNDRED REVIEWS! I only hit 100, like, three chapters ago or something. This is INSANE! And huge shout out to littelprincess for being #200 and writing an amazing review! But seriously, thanks to everyone who reviews. Love each and every one of you! It's so awesome to see my hard work and hand cramps are paying off and that everyone's enjoying this. Each review makes me so happy and motivates me to work on this story more so I can get the next update and see what everyone thinks. So once again, thank you, thank you, thank you. You guys fucking rick! (no typo, I'm sure you get the joke. If not... *hug*)_

_Twitter is property of itself, don't sure, I REALLY love you. MSN is property of Microsoft, don't sue either, I love you as well. Once again "AddictForDramatics" is from the Taking Back Sunday song "Liar (It Takes One to Know One)". "Douchebaggery", "dickbit", and "pusswhack" all come courtesy of my dad. We are an unusual family. VIP Nation is property of itself and I'm sure they employ lovely people. Don't get mad at what is in here; it wasn't me, it was Kendall *hands up in innocence* Metallica is just awesome and I just happen to have a Metallica baseball tee on right now. And cute platonic Kenlos moments are cute._

_Phew! I think that's it...Now, on to what you guys actually came for and not my long winded rambling author notes: The update! :D Enjoy!_

* * *

Kendall wasn't really one to think or plan ahead. It wasn't that he didn't care, didn't want to; he just tended to not have time. He was more into living in the moment, doing things as soon as the mood struck, taking chances and just going for it. After all, a life without risks is a life unlived.

But when it came to that concert, the blond actually planned. He laid out times for leaving, when he should get shit done that day. He picked out his outfit in advance. He requested the day of and day after off work, knowing he wouldn't be in the mood for being at a grocery store when the show was over, although he wasn't sure what events would lead to it or exactly what mood it would be.

Okay, so he had a feeling it would be sadness and more moping, even though part of him had been hoping for joy, ecstasy, and a sore ass. But either way, he had no idea as to just how far down his sadness was gonna take him.

He ended up sleeping in late, his mom having left for work already, but remained in bed a couple more hours after he woke, repeating the same scenes in his head over and over: James leaving the dressing room; James ignoring him as he hugged Katie; James with an apology on his face as he walked away. Those images played on, in a continuous loop, until he finally had enough.

Shoving his covers back, he got outta bed, movements fueled by anger. James was a dick. He used Kendall—or was planning to anyway—for his own pleasure, then stormed out and left the blond confused. He clearly didn't give a shit about the teen or his feelings; he just wanted to get some ass. And, yeah, maybe Kendall had freaked him out with his request to be fucked, but that could've been because the singer was only after a BJ. Maybe he didn't actually have sex with groupies for fear they'd get attached, when all it would be was a one time thing.

Which clearly was all James planned it to be with Kendall.

The blond ruminated on that while he showered, fuming, pissed that he'd been ditched without a reason, without a goodbye. Who the fuck did that pop star dickbit think he was, getting the teen worked up like that and leaving him with balls bluer than that trio of painted freaks in Vegas? That was some serious douchebaggery right there.

He scrubbed himself with more vigor than usual, anger driving his actions once more, skin getting red and raw. But by the time he was rinsing the shampoo out his hair, his mood shifted, depression taking over once again.

Why wasn't he good enough? Why'd the singer leave him, ignore him, suddenly decide he wanted nothing to do with him? Why didn't the brunet stick around? He could've easily said he wasn't interested in sex and they could've just made out or talked or something. But instead, the pop star made the teen feel like a piece of shit, unworthy of the famous male's time.

Kendall let out a heavy sigh as he shut the water off, smearing a hand down his face and wiping away wetness. Just once he'd like to be good enough. Just once he'd wanna be exactly what someone else needs or wants, to be able to make them happy, to do exactly what needed to be done to have them stay put.

No wonder Katie would rather hang with Carlos.

His mood now super fucking fantastic, he exited the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before looking at the clothes he'd grabbed and put on the counter. He held up his t-shirt, the one he'd gotten in that VIP goodie bag, dark purple with gold diamond drawing on it and the singer's signature right below it. He'd been planning on wearing it and some gray sweatpants after his shower, but now that he was looking at it, now that he was in the mood he was in, he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to.

He needed to get over this stupid crush—'cause that's all it was, a ridiculous and incredibly unhealthy obsession with a celeb—needed to move on. 'Cause clearly, this shit wasn't good for him. He'd always been moody, never really been an overly chipper, overly giddy, overly pleasant guy—not over the past few years anyway—but he'd been worse lately. Katie had said as much the night before, Carlos a couple weeks ago. Clearly Kendall had changed, and for the worse.

Well, no fucking more! He was done. He was sick and fucking tired of pining over something he never had, of acting like a depressed little bitch because he wasn't with the singer, of feeling like a delusional fucktwit for believing he actually had a shot with the pop star. That shit was over and done with and he wasn't going back to that. From that moment on, he was finished with all things James Diamond. He was moving on with his life and getting over the brunet bastard who ditched him.

Starting with getting rid of that fucking t-shirt.

Balling the tee up, he walked over to his desk and held it over his trash can. Only he couldn't bring himself to drop the purple fabric in. As badly as he wanted to get over the other male and quit this ridiculous depressive pusswhack behavior, he wasn't sure he was ready to.

Fuck, he really _was_ a fucking addict.

With a sigh, he tossed the t-shirt onto a pile of clothes over in the corner by his closet. Smearing a hand over his face, he tried to wipe the somber expression away, only managing to feel the short whiskers of his unshaven jaw against his rough palm.

Okay, new plan. He'd allow himself one day of being down and depressed, because he pretty much deserved it after having the singer walk out then ignore him. But beginning the next day, he was gonna start getting over the dick.

Somehow.

He headed to his closet to grab a different shirt, but before he could even stick his hand in, the bedroom door flew open, making him slightly jump and snap his head to the left.

Carlos stood in the threshold of Kendall's room, huge grin taking over his face, dark eyes dancing in delight. The phrase "Kid on Christmas morning" popped into the blond's mind and he wondered why the hell the Latino was looking more giddy than usual.

"Heeey, buuuuddy!" the shorter male greeted the taller, literally bouncing into the bedroom.

"'Litos," the blond replied, more serious than his friend, watching as his door was shut. "What's up with you showing up when I'm just out the shower and in a towel? Something you wanna tell me?" He cocked an eyebrow as he look at the other male.

Carlos' eyes widened further than the blond thought possible, the joy and exuberance gone from his face, replaced instead by panic. "Whoa! No! No, no, no!" he protested, waving his arms back and forth in front of himself. "I don't—there's nothing—I—no."

Kendall laughed as he turned his head back to his closet. "Relax, 'Litos. I'm fuckin' with ya."

An audible exhale hit the blond's ears and he saw the shorter male slump dramatically out the corner of his eye. "Phew! Thank _god_. 'Cause I love ya, but not that way. You're not my type."

"Same to you."

And it was true. While Kendall loved Carlos, it was as a brother. And the blond knew the Latino tended to go for clean cut guys with dark hair, while he preferred dudes with tats, piercings, and instruments. Until recently anyway.

Shoving that thought aside, he grabbed a random black tee—which just happened to be a "Master of Puppets" one—then headed back to the bathroom. He shut the door before unwrapping his towel, hearing his mattress squeak as his friend sat on it.

"So, why are you here?" he called through, wiping himself down. "Not that I don't enjoy your company or anything."

"I'm here for a recap!" Carlos yelled back, bouncing on the bed, causing more squeaking. "I wanna hear every last detail of what went down between you and Jaa-aames!" he sang the other male's name, making the blond roll his eyes.

Kendall dropped the towel on the floor before pulling on his boxers. "Why didn't you just call?"

"I did. Like, five times, and I texted, but you didn't reply. So, I came over."

His brow furrowed in confusion as he finished getting dressed. Leaving the bathroom, he headed past the end of his bed, and Carlos, walking to his nightstand and grabbing his phone. Sure enough, there were five missed calls and even more texts, including one stating the Latino was on his way over and one from Twitter, a DM Camille sent ordering Kendall to "_GET ON MSN *NOW *_" Well, that didn't bode well.

With a sigh, he turned and headed to his desk, sinking down onto his chair. Flipping his laptop open, he switched the device on and waited for it to warm up as he sat parallel to his desk. Meaning he could see Carlos and the expectant look on his tan face.

"What?"

"I'm waiting."

Kendall's brow furrowed. "For what?"

"For you to tell me what happened last night! Duh!" The excitement was back in the Latino's voice as he slightly bounced in place once more.

The blond turned in his seat, smearing his left hand over his face as his right set about signing him into MSN. As much as Kendall had been feeling and acting like a chick lately, Carlos was worse and had been for years. Whether it was gossip, squealing over "adorable" things, fretting over his wardrobe, or freaking when his favorite outfit got dirty, the Latino had an extra dose of estrogen in him. Strange when you considered the walking testosterone pack of a cop that was his dad.

His laptop beeped as Kendall received an IM, a "_FINALLY!_" from Camille. He quickly sent an apology as Carlos started kicking his legs up and down like a little kid.

"I'm still waaaitiiing!" the shorter male sing-songed, smirk on his face.

"Nothing happened," the blond lied, eyes on the screen as the words "_AddictsForDramatics is writing..._" appeared at the bottom of the IM window.

"Bull!" Carlos argued.

True, but Kendall wasn't in the mood to discuss anything with anyone, nor go back over the painful moments of the night before. He'd had enough heartache to last a lifetime.

But he'd known Carlos long enough to know the Latino wouldn't let it go without some sorta subject change.

Reaching behind his laptop, he grabbed the items he needed. "Here ya go," he stated, tossing his friend the purple hoodie he'd purchased and the VIP bag he'd been given. He sure as shit wasn't gonna use it.

Carlos practically squealed, rambling at loud volume over how awesome everything was, about how he couldn't believe Kendall had _actually_ bought him a hoodie, how the blond was gonna give up his bag...

The taller male muttered out a "you're welcome" as he turned back to his laptop screen, seeing Camille had messaged.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__the ENTIRE fandom is freaking out! Kendall showed up at the show and had vip! Look at how cute this pic is!_

Oh. Fuck.

Kendall had, once again, totally forgotten all about those fucking pictures and how they were published online. And now his face was gonna be plastered all over Tumblr, just like before. Although no one actually knew it was him. As far as he knew anyway.

The second VIP pic he'd taken with James and Katie fill the MSN screen and he felt the shattered pieces of his heart pound. All three of them had huge smiles on their faces, all of them happy in that moment. And the singer? God, he was glowing, eyes sparkling, that smile warm and genuine. Kendall would've given anything to go back to that moment, to go back to when things were perfect, when he was happy and peaceful inside, before everything went to shit in the dressing room.

But before he could say or do anything, Camille sent another picture, a close-up one. Of James' hand over Kendall's.

_**AddictForDramatics: **__LOOK AT THEIR FREAKING HANDS!_

Right, because she'd given Kendall a choice in the matter, what with how fucking huge the photo was.

And like before, he wasn't given a chance to reply, because suddenly, Spanish was being yelled out from behind him.

He spun around in his chair, seeing Carlos ranting in the other language, dark eyes narrowed at the blond male. "'Litos," Kendall started, rubbing his forehead. "Inglés, por favor."

"_You told me nothing happened!_"

Fuck.

The taller male saw a new message appear out the corner of his eye and turned his head to see what Camille had said.

_**AddictForDramatics:**__and that was the only guy w/ a younger sis in all the vip pix..._

Double fuck. Or was it triple fuck at that point? Whatever. He was still beyond screwed.

All right, it was nothing that major. He could totally lie. He could make up some bullshit excuse about how his mom wouldn't let him leave 'til late and he missed the VIP shit 'cause of it, but wow! That Kendall guy showed up! Wonder what's happening there.

Or he could stop being a dipshit and tell the truth. Camille was trustworthy, a great friend, even if they _had_ met on the internet. He owed it to her to quit hiding everything from her.

He also owed it to Carlos, too.

With a sigh, he typed a message to his female friend.

_**Kenny: **__got a webcam?_

_**AddictForDramatics:**__yeah. y?_

_**Kenny: **__turn it on. iou & my friend an explanation & it'd b easier this way_

_**AddictForDramatics: **__ohhhhkay..._

"Kendall?" Carlos' voice was wary, clearly having no idea what was happening or how to act.

A pop-up asking the blond if he wanted to accept a video call from AddictForDramatics appeared on the MSN window and he clicked 'yes' before leaning back, waiting for the webcam to warm-up and start transmitting.

"I have an explanation to make to you and my friend so-" He paused and shrugged, essentially wrapping up his statement.

"_Carlos?_"

The female voice from the laptop had both males snapping their heads to the screen. Camille was visible, all pale skin and tightly curled brown hair, confused smile on her face. The small square in the bottom left corner showed what Kendall's camera was capturing, which was the Latino and not the blond.

"Camille?!" A wide grin broke out over the smaller male's tan face as confusion spread over the taller's. Carlos and Camille knew each other? How? What the fuck was going on?

"_Wait,_" she stated, pointing at the screen. "You're _Kenny?_"

Carlos joined Team I Have No Clue What the Fuck is Happening Right Now, his own brow furrowing. "Who the hell is Ken-" He cut himself off, turning to his best friend. "-Ny?"

"Like I said," the blond began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have some 'splainin' to do."

"_Carlos, who's in the room with you? What's going on?_"

Kendall let out a sigh before moving his laptop back on the desk, swinging his chair around so he was in the shot with his friend. Sheepish look on his face, he greeted the female he'd been messaging for the past couple months. "Hey, Camille."

Her brown eyes went wide, painted lips opening into a shocked 'O' shape as a disbelieving laugh left them. "_Oh. My god. _You're _Kendall. You're _the_Kendall! I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner._" She shook her head as she looked away, hand on her forehead, seeming to be trying to wrap her mind around everything. A brief moment of this, then she turned her head back to the cam. "_Why didn't you tell me?_"

"I didn't want anyone to know," the blond confessed, rubbing the back of his neck again. He was fully aware that he had a lotta shit he needed to get out in the open, that he needed to tell both Carlos _and_ Camille. He just had no clue where to begin.

"I knew that if people knew I was _the_ Kendall who'd been on stage with James, they'd start treating me differently, get all in my shit and invade my privacy. And the last thing I wanted was for anyone to know the real me."

"I don't see anything wrong with the real you."

"Thanks, 'Litos." He gave a small smile as he dropped his hand onto his lap.

"_So, who _is_the real you?_" Camille questioned. "_'Cause I feel like I only know Kenny._"

"Yeah, who's Kenny?" Carlos threw his own inquiry into the mix.

Right. That.

The taller male scrunched up his face as he started explaining. "Yeah, I didn't want anyone I knew in real life knowing I liked James Diamond so I made a second Twitter account to follow him and a secret Tumblr to reblog stuff about him." He turned to the laptop. "And hiding my real name from my friends meant I could also hide the fact that I actually loathe pop music and would rather blast some metal or screamo than listen to fuckin' Justin Beaver or OneDouche-rection."

"_Yeah, the Metallica shirt kinda gives that away._"

Full brows raised as he remembered what he was wearing. Thank fuck he didn't put that VIP shirt on after all.

"_So,_" she continued. "_You hid these accounts from your friends because you were afraid of their judgments. And you hid your real self from the internet for the same reason, plus you didn't want a constant fifth degree about what happened between you and James._"

He nodded, lips pursed, but turned down at the same time. Sounded kinda dumb when she said it like that. Probably was. Fuck it, whatever. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, ya fucked up," Carlos started, waiting as the other two people in the convo turned to him. "'Cause I'm about to give you the fifth degree anyway."

"_Yeah, what really did happen between you guys?_"

Aaand now it was time for the part of the discussion Kendall _really_ didn't wanna have.

"Nothing," he stated honestly. "I mean, you guys have both seen everything that happened the first time."

"_Yeah, including the sparks that flew and the loving glances that were exchanged,_" Camille pointed out, staring off dreamily, letting out a sign as she grinned. "_And nothing happened after that?_"

"I made those accounts and downloaded his music." '_Then lied to everyone about everything.'_

_'Thanks for the commentary, brain. You never fail to make me feel good about myself._'

"But what about last night?" Carlos pried again. "And you can't say 'nothing', not after the hands!" He scooted forward on the bed, pointing towards the laptop, serious expression on his face as he glared at Kendall. _Carlos_ being serious? Shit was major.

The blond turned to his laptop and saw the same expectant look on Camille's face, perfectly manicured eyebrows raised, arms folded over her chest as she leaned back in her chair.

He honestly had no idea what to say to either friend, no clue how much info to divulge. In all honesty, he wanted to keep it all to himself, to hold onto those private moments and keep them as just that: private. But he knew it'd be better to get it out there—at least get it out there to Camille and Carlos. He was sick of keeping secrets and having to track all his lies. Plus, there was a chance they could help him figure shit out, explain James' weird behavior, be able to see things clearly and objectively and not through a haze created by lust and hormones.

"Well," he started, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees, hand rubbing the back of his neck once more. He needed a new nervous tic before he had no skin left there. "The meet and greet was uneventful."

"Hands!" Carlos objected, pointing to the laptop with both arms, like some model on a game show displaying a prize.

"Okay, there was that," the taller male conceded, dropping his hand so it clapped against his other one. "And he wouldn't drop his arm around from me either when I tri-"

"_Whoa!_" the lone female interrupted. "_When was his arm around you?_"

Right. He clearly needed to start at the beginning.

So, leaning back, Kendall told them about his name being brought up during the Q&A, James' reply of wishing to meet all fans a second time, and how crushed he felt—which earned him an 'aww' from his two friends. He went to explain the meet and greet, how the singer remembered his name—that got simultaneous squeals—the arm wrapped around his waist and how he tightened his grip—more squeals—the pop star's insistence of taking a second picture, then suggesting they hold up Katie, and covering Kendall's hand—the squealing shit was getting old.

"_Then what happened?_" Camille pried as she leaned towards her computer, arms folded on her desk. Her eyebrows briefly lifted up in suggestion, smirk on her face that meant she was hoping it was x-rated. Too bad for her it wasn't. Too bad for Kendall, too, when he thought about it.

Turning his head slightly to the left, he caught sight of Carlos' huge grin, the light sparkling in his dark eyes, obviously excited for what happens next. Was gonna suck for him as well.

Facing forward, the blond stared at the wall across from him, sitting parallel to his desk, Camille and his laptop on his right, Carlos and his bed on his left. But it was like they weren't there, like Kendall wasn't there. He was back at Xcel Energy Center, back in that meet and greet room, back with that VIP Nation prick telling him it was time to go. He could feel the same sadness, the same disappointment as he'd felt in that moment, which was understandable. Not only had the flashbacks brought emotions back, attached to the images playing in his head, but he was suffering from another cruel reminder that he'd never see James again. At least not anytime soon.

Withholding a sigh, Kendall felt his sadness weighing heavily on him, causing his shoulders to slump and his head to tilt down. He stared at his hands as he played with his fingers, brow drawn.

"Then," he started, hand rubbing the back of his neck. A-fucking-gain. "We had to leave. VIP Nation dickface kicked us out."

Camille made an offended noise, slamming back against her chair and folding her arms under her chest. "_Okay, I need to find out who that jackhole was 'cause he's messing with my OTP and clearly needs to be pounded._"

That caused the side of Kendall's lips to slightly twitch up as he dropped his hand back onto his lap, fingers tangling together once again as he watched. He really should stop biting his nails. He should also focus on the conversation at hand, but distracting himself with trivial thoughts regarding his bad habits seemed like a much better idea.

"Look on the bright side," Carlos began, putting a sympathetic hand on the blond's shoulder. "He obviously remembered you." His smile was bright, optimistic as he tried to cheer his friend up.

Too bad Kendall didn't feel like being unbummed.

The taller male scoffed, still not raising his head, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb. "Only 'cause people kept showing him my pic. Said so when we were in his dressing room."

His two friends let out simultaneous "_WHAT?!_"s, the one displayed on his laptop saying what both were thinking. "_When were you in his dressing room? And _why_?!_"

He clearly needed to pay more attention when he talked.

Shifting in his seat, he cleared his throat before speaking. "After leaving the meet 'n' greet, me and Katie started heading towards the merch booth, but Logan came u-"

"Whoa!" the Latino interrupted, forcing the blond to stop and look at him. "You met Logan?!"

The taller male's eyebrow furrowed as confusion took over his face. He knew Logan was famous within the fandom, but he didn't expect Carlos to focus on the fact that Kendall had been introduced to the guy. Whatever.

"Yeah, at the meet 'n' greet."

"He's so cute."

"Riiight." The blond stretched the word out as he turned his head away. Another example of how they had different tast in men. "Anyway, he came up to us and said James wanted to see me-" More. Fucking. Squeals. "-so I went with Logan to James' dressing room and Katie went to the merch booth with Freight Train."

"You met Freight Train, too?!"

Okay, Kendall was well aware that Carlos wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but he was focusing on _all_ the wrong parts of this story.

"_Well, obviously they met, otherwise Kenny-dall wouldn't have mentioned him,_" Camille pointed out, good natured smirk on her face as the 'duh' went unspoken. She turned her head so she was no longer looking at Carlos, but Kendall instead. "_So, why did James wanna see you?_"

Damn fine question, even if it was an obvious one. And it wasn't until that moment that Kendall realized he never did find that out.

"No fuckin' clue," he answered honestly, head turned to the laptop.

"_So, what happened then?_"

He felt that same earlier desire to keep it all to himself, to keep it private and personal. It was an intimate moment between two men, behind the privacy of a closed door. No bodyguards, no VIP Nation douchefucks, no best friends, and most of all, no titles. It wasn't internationally known pop star James Diamond and random metal head teenager Kendall Knight. It was just James and Kendall, doing what two people who were attracted to each other—assuming the brunet was attracted to the blond, too—did when alone together, no other people intruding upon their clandestine moment, a secret they shared with each other and no one else. He wasn't entirely sure if he wanted anyone else knowing about it.

But he also wasn't entirely sure if keeping it to himself was such a great idea either. Sure, Camille and Carlos had been pretty forgiving about Kendall's lies so far, but that didn't mean they'd continue to be that way in the future, especially when they find out he was hiding even _more_ shit from them. Plus, it was like his earlier thought of them possibly being able to help him out, give him advice or insight into James' behavior. Maybe if he could figure out why the singer had left, he wouldn't spend so much time thinking about it and would be able to move on faster and easier. And really, that was the ultimate goal here.

Taking a deep breath, Kendall mentally braced himself to tell the story. "Well," he began, still somewhat reluctant to say anything, despite his mental reasoning that it was a good idea. "He said I was a good bro for taking Katie to the show and for whatever reason, thought I was in college. When I told him I was seventeen, he acted kinda weird."

"_Weird how?_" Camille questioned, seeming fully invested in the tale.

"I dunno. Just." He paused to think how to best explain it, eyes turned up and looking around, as though he could find the answer on his ceiling. "He seemed shocked, then put off, like my age was an issue."

"_Don't see why it would be,"_ his female friend pointed out. "_You're legal in a lotta states._"

"Including Minnesota," Carlos added with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, we know that, but apparently he doesn't." Another sigh left the blond as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped as they hung. "So, I asked him what the hell that was about and he said nothing then changed the subject to my shirt-"

"Definitely gay," the Latino interrupted. "He wouldn't care about your clothing otherwise."

The taller male furrowed his brow at the random tangent, but quickly recovered, ignoring the comment. "And how it had a metal band on it-" he gave a pointed look to Carlos "-just like my other one, which was when he brought up people showing him my pic." He felt that same disappointment as he had at that moment, head hanging, green eyes trained on the gray carpet.

"He's lying," the other male commented, arms folded over his chest, chin stuck out stubbornly.

"_Agreed,_" Camille stated from the laptop. "_There is _no _way you could have that kinda connection and not remember the person you had it with. I mean, that sexual tension was so strong, you could feel it through the computer screen! I'm sure it was just as strong, if not more, in person and when you're actually the one feeling it and being a part of it._"

Kendall nodded, well aware that she was speaking the truth. Although he wasn't sure how it looked from the outside, but inside it was like being in an inferno, one he fully enjoying being burned alive in.

Masochistic, much?

"_Maybe he was just trying to protect himself and his feelings by pretending he didn't remember you,_" she continued after a brief silent moment. "_Nothing worse than really being into someone and they don't feel the same._"

"Trust me, I know," Kendall pointed out as he sat up, only to slump in his seat. If there was one thing he was fully versed on over the past couple months, it was unrequited love.

"How?"

Okay, Carlos' ditziness was gonna put him in a nut hut. And he wordlessly said as much with just one 'are you fucking serious?' look aimed at the Latino.

Clueless as ever, the smaller male just shrugged and shook his head, hands out to the side, face showing he was totally lost. "What? I'm serious. How would you know about someone not liking you back when James was so clearly into you?"

"'Cause he's not into me."

He mirrored Kendall's previous facial expression. "Right. And you know that how?"

Jesus fucking Christ, the blond was so fucking done with all aspects of this conversation, especially this part. But whatever, might as well get it over and done with.

"Because when we were making out, he said 'fuck' and I said 'yes please' and he stormed out!" He blurted it all out on one breath, before smearing his hand over his face.

"_You guys made out?!_" Camille and Carlos had the simultaneous speaking thing down pat, Kendall had to admit it.

He dropped his hand onto his lap, staring straight ahead at the wall, eyes slightly narrowed out of frustration. "Yeah. And then he _left_."

"What was it like?"

"_Did he use tongue?_"

"Who started it?"

"_Were body parts grabbed?_"

"Did you come?"

"'Litos!" The blond's eyes widened as his head snapped to his best friend.

"What?" The Latino looked as cluelessly innocent as usual. "Valid question. Maybe you coming too early spooked him and he left."

Another long 'are you fucking serious?' look before the blond said a simple "no".

"Are you suuu-"

"I didn't come, Carlos!"

"He must not've been that good then."

Kendall rubbed his forehead in both embarrassment and frustration, wondering why he told the shorter male about what happened between himself and the pop star.

"_Maybe he panicked at how good it was,_" Camille suggested, making a lotta sense and causing Kendall to remember why he clued his friends in. "_Especially since you're four years younger and live in Minnesota. If you had this great connection and then a mind-blowing make-out session, chances are it would lead to a relationship, which wouldn't be easy given the distance and his fame._"

The blond raised his eyebrows, lips pouting as he nodded. What she said seemed highly likely, seemed like a good explanation. Maybe Kendall asking to be fucked made James realize how far they were going, how much further they _could_ go and he didn't want that, for whatever reason. Maybe he wasn't ready for a relationship. Maybe he didn't wanna come out. Maybe-

Right, Kendall was stopping. He was done thinking about what happened and the possible reasons for it. He had a likely explanation that was currently satisfying his curiosity. He was gonna be able to move one.

Eventually.

Maybe.

He hoped.

Another sigh—fuck, was he doing that a lot lately—as he stared at his hands in his lap, picking at what fingernails he hadn't chewed off. He'd had the same thought several times over the past twenty-four hours, but it still held true, still rang in his head: he was done. Done being mopey, done being moody, done pining and wondering and holding out hope.

"Well, whatever the reasons," he began, voice low. "I'm over it."

He friends snorted in sync.

"Okay, I'm gonna _try_ and get over it. 'Cause whatever happened for whatever reasons, it's over, never gonna happen again."

"_What if you go to another concert?_" Camille brought up. "_And you get VIP again and everything happens just like it did before? Would you still feel the same way and wanna get over it?_"

He fucking hated hypotheticals. Really, truly hated them. They were what kept him up at night, kept him hoping, kept him going when he wanted so fucking bad to just stop and move on. But this time, he was standing firm, answering with an honest "yes".

If it was still true in the future when that hypothetical situation actually happened, who the fuck knew?

Neither Camille nor Carlos looked like they believed him, but they also didn't say anything. Luckily for him. He really didn't need to hear how they were holding out hope and felt like something was gonna happen and that they were still gonna ship the singer and the fan. He needed them to support him in his decision to move on and help him get over the pop star.

He had a feeling it wasn't gonna happen.

"Can we talk about something else?" he requested, looking back and forth between his friend on his laptop and the one on his bed.

"Sure thing, buddy." Carlos' grin was bright and bubbly as he put a hand on the taller male's shoulder. "Ooh! We can talk about my new job!"

Camille snorted from the laptop, smirking in amusement. "_Another one? How long will this one last?_"

Kendall laughed, having had the same thought. It made him wonder how the two of them knew each other and for how long. "How'd you guys meet anyway?"

His friends exchanged smiles before telling the story, bringing a smirk to his own face. And while it served to distract him for the time being, he knew it was a temporary fix and that come tomorrow, he'd have to work hard to forget all about James Diamond and everything that had transpired between the two of them.

Deep. Fucking. Joy.


	11. School and Hell Pretty Much Sound Alike

_**A/N:**__ I legit spent most of the afternoon trolling my best friend (who shockingly hasn't killed me...we'll see what happens after this is posted...) so if there are any misspellings in this, I'm sorry. _

_Some people asked about how Carlos and Camille met, and I answered them, but for those of you who were wondering and didn't ask, they basically just met on a messageboard, much like how Camille and Kendall met, but Carlos never hid who he was. They exchanged messages, IMs, Skyped, the whole deal. So there ya go._

_Ummmm...I can't think. Nothing new there...Welp, the usual covering my ass nonsense. Tumblr is property of that creepy David Whatshisface. Seriously, he is creepy and I will not reblog him. Bitters and Lucy are property of the BTR show and Nickelodeon. More cute platonic Kenlos and Carlos actually has a moment in this that made me laugh when I saw it in my head. Well, a couple actually. Gotta love the 'Litos._

_Oh! And if you didn't know/haven't checked it out, I made a page for all the fanart manips people have created for this over on my Tumblr. Feel free to check 'em out, cause they're pretty damn cool :D  
_

_Anyhoo, enjoy. I think that's it. Um._

_Live long and prosper!  
_

* * *

School. Fucking. Sucks.

It's a fact of life, a lesson Kendall had learned several times over the past twelve years. It was so boring, monotonous, unchanging, whereas he felt like he'd turned into a completely different person over the summer.

And it wasn't that he hadn't been aware of his shift in demeanor and personality, it just seemed all the more obvious when he parked in the same spot as always, in the same lot, watching the same faces walk up to the same school building. Everyone was smiling, laughing, hugging, glad to see friends they'd missed over the summer, excited to share stories of whatever the fuck they did during vacation, happy to be around those they cared about and had fun with. And, yeah, Kendall was never one to giddily tell tales of what happened during summer break or hug friends or bounce around, he hadn't been for a while. But sitting in his car, staring out at the other students, he felt even more like an outcast than usual.

Thank _fuck_ he was graduating in ten months.

'Course that didn't help him at that moment. He was stuck in this jail, counting down the days 'til his parole.

Letting out a harsh sigh, he killed the engine, pulling the keys out the ignition. He so didn't wanna be there, didn't wanna be anywhere really.

Okay, there _was_ a place he wanted to be at, but he was ignoring that desire and the thoughts that came with it. The triple-X dream he had the night before was bad enough.

"You all right?"

His best friend's voice cut into his reverie, reminding him he wasn't alone. Turning his head, he saw Carlos in the passenger seat, worried expression on his face as he looked at the blond.

Kendall didn't feel like getting into it. Despite the confessions of the day before, the shorter male still had no clue _exactly_ how deep the taller was in with the pop star. And he wasn't about to make that known.

So instead, the blond just rolled his eyes. "I'm at school. The fuck do you think?" With that, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out the car, signaling that the conversation was over.

But Carlos was never really one to take hints, continuing to talk as he got out the other side and closed the door. "I meant after everything yesterday."

The taller teen stared at his best friend over the top of the car for a long moment before opening the back door and grabbing his backpack. "Fine."

"You're lying."

"Let it go, 'Litos."

"Since when do I let things go?"

Dude had a point, Kendall had to admit as he shut the door, bag slung over a shoulder. Looking over the roof of the car once more, he met his friend's dark eyes. "I really _am_ fine. I'm done with all that shit, moving on, over it." He locked the car up before walking towards the hood in the direction of the school.

The Latino caught up quickly, his own backpack slung over his left shoulder as he walked on the blond's right. "Really? 'Cause I don't believe you."

"That's your deal." He didn't bother looking down at his friend, kept facing forward as he continued on his way to Alcatraz High.

"Bet you haven't even changed your cell background."

"Have fun being wrong."

Before Kendall even knew what was happening, Carlos moved in front of him, hands in the pockets of the taller male's jeans. His green eyes went wide as he let out a "Whoa!", trying to pull the other male's hands out as he scanned the parking lot, hoping like hell no one was witnessing this. Carlos may have been out and proud, but Kendall wasn't, only his family and closest friends aware of his sexual orientation. The Latino getting handsy in his pants in such a public place would _definitely_ change that.

He finally managed to remove his friend's hands from his pockets, but not before the shorter male had taken hold of his phone. Dark eyes went wide as they shot up from the screen to the taller male, lips parting in shock.

"I didn't lie," Kendall pointed out before Carlos could utter a surprised syllable. And technically, the blond was right. He _had_ changed his iPhone background. From James looking into his eyes as he sang that song, to the close-up of the singer's hand covering his.

Carlos' face was one of complete unamusement as he looked up at his best friend, the 'really, bitch?' going unsaid. He didn't fight Kendall when he took his phone back, but kept the serious expression on his face. "_That_ is getting over him."

"Like I said," the taller male started, shoving his phone in his left pocket before adjusting his backpack strap over his right shoulder. "I'm working on it."

"Don't know why you are. Dude clearly wants you."

"Yeah, we're not having this discussion again," Kendall stated before continuing on his way to the school building.

Carlos kept up, like before, sticking by Kendall's right this time. "I'm being serious."

"So am I. The guy walked out on me, just left without a word. If that wasn't a huge fuckin' sign he's not into me, then I dunno what is."

"Maybe you're just misinterpreting what happened," the shorted male suggested, the bounce back in his step, the hope fully evident in his voice. "Maybe he had to go do something real quick or was tryna buy more time for you guys. He might've been coming back, but you'll never know 'cause ya left."

As badly as the taller male wanted that to be true, as much as his heart wanted it to be real, he knew deep down that it wasn't the case. So instead, he just snorted in disbelief, before replying. "No way. Not with how he acted when he left."

A sad smile formed on the dark-haired male's face, sympathy pulling at the corner of his lips. "Well, _I'm_ still holding out hope for you guys."

"Don't know why," the blond stated as he opened one of the glass doors and opened the school building, his best friend right behind him. "Not like there's a chance of anything else happening. He didn't ask for my number, my e-mail, nothing. Clearly he wasn't interested in anything beyond a one-time thing."

"But you left be-"

"_He_ left," Kendall interrupted, clarifying the situation.

"But what if-"

"No 'what if's," he cut in again, not caring about being rude. As usual. "Just let it go, 'Litos."

"Let what go?"

The sudden appearance of a female voice had both Kendall and Carlos stopping, the two of them looking to the taller male's left. There stood Lucy Stone, new red streaks in her dark hair, almond shaped eyes rimmed in black, ever present leather jacket covering her torso. Her arms were folded over her chest, eyebrows raised in expectation, hip cocked. Pretty obvious she wasn't moving until she got an answer.

Too fucking bad for her.

Kendall cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at his petite friend. "If I'm telling _him_ to let it go, what the fuck makes you think I'm gonna tell _you_?"

Her brown eyes slightly narrowed in contention. "So you're keeping it from me?"

"Yep."

She rolled her eyes before adjusting the strap of her messenger bag as it started down her shoulder, keeping her hand on it. "Speaking of keeping away," she started, seeming to be changing the subject. "Where the hell have you been all summer?"

Shit. His moody depressive behavior over the summer had caused him to ignore pretty much everyone—except Carlos, who was literally impossible to not pay attention to. He probably should've known there'd be questions about his disappearing act over the past couple months, but, once again, he'd been so wrapped up in his James Diamond Mopefest that he hadn't noticed or thought about anything or anyone else.

Selfish dick, much?

Although that wasn't exactly anything new.

But still.

Kendall kept his face flat as he easily thought up a lie, his expert poker face going to work. "Was busy with work." He saw Carlos roll his eyes in his peripheral vision but ignored it. Wasn't like he was about to tell Lucy the truth. He'd only known her a couple years and most likely, she wouldn't understand. If anything, she'd give him shit for being hung up on some guy like a pussy. Worse if she knew who that guy was.

So yeah, he was keeping his mouth fucking shut on that one.

The look on her face was pure skepticism, not seeming to fully buy his bullshit. And as she parted her painted lips and got ready to speak, another male voice beat her to it.

"Ah, Mr. Knight."

Kendall turned his head to see Principal Bitters standing there, authoritative smirk on his entitled face. This dick didn't seem to have changed over the summer either, except for a few more inches of girth around his midsection. He even still had the same straight outta the '80s glasses on his fat face.

"First day hasn't even started yet and you've already violated one of the rules," the curly haired chubster stated. "I guess this year will be just like the past three."

Kendall cocked an eyebrow at the elder male. "What are you talking about?"

"No hats during school hours."

"School hours haven't started yet."

The smirk disappeared from the principal's face as he glared at the problem student. "Remove it, or I'll do it for you and add it to my personal collection."

The blond scrunched up his face. "It's not really your style."

Bitters pointed a finger up at him, standing a couple inches shorter. "Knight, I'm wa-"

"Relax," Kendall cut in, pulling his beanie off his head. "At your age and weight, you really need to watch the stress or you'll give yourself a coronary."

The principal straightened his dark blue blazer, still glaring, before pointing at the younger male once again. "This is your first warning. One more and-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He rolled his eyes, fully aware of what happened next. It occurred often enough over the past few years. Without another word, he walked off, heading in the direction of his home room class, vaguely aware that his two friends were following.

"So anyway," Lucy began after a long moment of silence shared between the three of them.

Kendall withheld a groan, hoping like hell she wasn't about to restart their previous conversation, not in the mood for any insistences of him being a liar or demands that he tell the truth.

"Guitar Dude's throwing a party this weekend." Yeah, definitely not their previous convo. "His usual 'Yay We Survived the First Week of Hell' kegger. If you can get away from work, it'd be cool to see you there. And I guess you can come, too, Carlos."

Kendall turned down another hall with them as he considered the invite. Going to a party and getting wasted was definitely something he did before the whole James bullshit, so attending would help him on his mission of getting back to being the Old Kendall. Not to mention getting drunk would allow him to forget about it all. And, yeah, he knew it would only be a temporary fix and not a permanent one, but he'd gladly take the blissful ignorance and accompanying hangover, no matter how short a time it would be.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'll be there."

"Awesome." She smiled up at him, seeming to be okay with him not hanging out during the summer, as long as he was gonna be around during the school year. "This is my home room. I'll see you guys later, okay?"

"Sure. See ya."

Carlos let out a weak 'bye' as she gave a smile and a wave, heading into a classroom on the left, the two men continuing to walk forward.

"I don't like them," the Latino muttered, pout on his face as he looked forward.

"Nothing new there," the blond responded, telling the truth. Carlos hadn't really been a fan of Lucy and Guitar Dude pretty much from the moment he met them, blaming them for changing Kendall into a metal head who got drunk and high, skipped school, quit hockey, and had a shit attitude. The taller male had told the shorter that it wasn't true, that he dropped the sport on his own, acquired a new taste in music by himself, changed his personality because of other reasons, and chance were, he'd probably find a way to get wasted alone, too. Lucy and Guitar Dude just made it easier.

Still, Carlos didn't like them, whether it was due to him not believing what Kendall said or a simple clash in personalities, the blond didn't know. Didn't really care either. He was gonna keep hanging out with them anyway because _he_ liked them, because _he_ had fun with them, because _he_ enjoyed their company. If Carlos didn't like 'em, it was too bad, but he had the choice to not tag along when the blond went to spend time with them.

But, being the loyal friend he was, the Latino kept hanging out with them, obviously never looking happy or like he was having fun. But he never once complained, never voiced his displeasure at being there. Fuck knew Kendall wouldn't keep quiet about that if the situation was reversed.

"I don't think you should hang out with them," the shorter male stated his opinion, voice timid, like he knew the taller guy didn't wanna hear any of that shit, but he needed to say it anyway. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

"'Litos, I already have a mom who won't keep out my shit. I don't need another."

Carlos nodded. "I know. I'm just looking out for ya."

"Yeah, I know. And you don't have to go on Friday if you don't wanna."

"I'll go," the dark haired teen informed, turning his head to look up at his taller friend. "If for no other reason than to make sure your drunk ass gets home in one piece and help you sneak in."

An amused smirk spread across Kendall's face, dimples forming, as he slung an around around his shorter friend's shoulders. "You're a good pal, 'Litos."

That got him a wide grin in return, that sparkle back in his eyes. "Yeah, well, I figure James wouldn't appreciate you getting in a wreck and dying before he got the chance to officially ask you to be his boyfriend," he stated as he turned and headed into the class on the right, Kendall stopping and letting his arm drop.

The blond stood in the hall, staring after his dark haired friend, watching him enter the room. "I take that back," he started a brief moment later, finally getting his legs to work and following his short pal in. "You're a dick."

Carlos just giggled, further proving his point.

* * *

Kendall knew going on Tumblr would be a huge fucking mistake. After all, there was a reason why he'd avoided it the day before. But with a James Diamond show having taken place in Indianapolis the previous night, he figured it would be safe, that his dash would be free of "OMG KENDALL WAS AT THE ST. PAUL SHOW!1!1!" posts.

He was wrong.

First fucking thing to show up when he clicked onto the website after school was a photo of himself in the crowd, James' palm on his chest, dazed look on the blond's face. His eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, and he wondered if he'd appeared the same way in the dressing room.

The caption under the pic read '_James and Kendall, St. Paul_' and the date, someone else adding '_LOOK HOW HE IS TOUCHING KENDALL OMFG I CAN'T!_', followed by a '_Forever reblog, EVERY time it's on my dash._'

From Camille.

Bitch.

The tags were worse, statements of '_I ship them so hard', 'you guys don't even know how bad!_', '_my OTP is FLAWLESS!_', all lining the bottom of the post. None of those were okay.

Neither was how fucking good James looked there.

Or how Kendall was reblogging, copying and pasting those into the text area, and adding his own '_same_' comment.

Fucking. Masochistic. Bastard.

Smearing a hand over his face, his exited his internet browser, closing his laptop before getting up. Dinner would be ready soon—if it wasn't already—and he sure as fuck would rather stuff his face than deal with any shit on Tumblr.

He reached the kitchen right as his mom was pulling a baking pan out of the oven—one full of lasagna, judging by the smell—flipping the door up with her foot then fully closing it with her hip.

"Oh, hey, sweetie," she greeted him with a smile as she put the pan on top of the stove. Taking off the oven mitts, she grabbed a spatula and started cutting the food into squares. "I was just about to call you."

"Good timing then," he responded, setting about pouring himself a drink.

She simply smiled more as she dished out the food, carrying her and Katie's plates through to the dining room, leaving Kendall to bring his own. Garlic bread was already on the table and they all delved into their salads, silence taking over.

At least for a moment. 'Cause his mom had this annoying fucking habit of wanting them to actually converse during dinner, of taking an interest in their days and wanting to actually discuss it. Wasn't it bad enough they were forced to eat together?

"So. How was your first day of school?" Apparently not.

Kendall rolled his eyes, wondering why she bothered.

Katie went along with it, rambling about how her English teacher is a moron, how she was stuck with that creepy Sally girl in four of her seven classes, how bad she wanted to just go home and play _Castle Smashers_.

"Can I stay home for my birthday?" she asked, voice perky, face bright with hope. "It can be an extra present."

"Nice try, but no," their mom answered, before turning to the lone Knight male. "What about you? How was your day?"

Kendall snorted, cutting into his lasagna with his fork. "Same crap, different year," he replied, shoveling the food into his mouth.

"I hope that's just an expression and that this year really _will_ be different," she stated as she reached for her glass. "Would be nice to not have to visit Principal Bitters once a month. I'm getting to know the receptionist a little _too_ well and I can't afford to miss anymore work."

He just shrugged. Wasn't his problem.

"Kendall?" His name was a half-question, half-warning as she put her glass down, eyebrow raised at him. "_Please_ tell me this year will be different and you won't be getting into any more trouble."

"Well, if this morning was anything to go by..." he trailed off, staring at his plate.

"Kendall!"

"What?" He snapped his head up to her. "Not my fault the Dress Code Nazi has issues with beanies."

A harsh sigh left his mom as she put her elbows on the table and her forehead in her hands, face turned towards her plate.

"It's seriously not even a big deal. I've done _way_ worse," he pointed out before taking another bite.

"That's not the point," she replied before lifting her head, sweeping her red hair back from her face. "I was hoping that with it being your senior year, you'd cut the crap and behave, no more getting in trouble, no more visits to the principal's office, no more phone calls at work saying you got in a fight or didn't even show up. You'd get good grades, graduate, get into a good college, and quit giving me gray hair."

"I don't see any gray hair," Katie chimed in. Fucking suck up.

"Oh, sweetie," their mother smiled, placing a hand on her daughter's head briefly, rubbing her cheek before dropping it and turning back to her son. "I mean it though. You hadn't caused any problems or drama this entire summer and I was hoping it meant you'd turned over a new leaf and were going back to being the old, sweet Kendall you had been before you started high school."

He stared down at his plate as he repeatedly stabbed at the remnants of his lasagna, letting his mom's words wash over him. He knew he hadn't gone back to how he used to be—because it was never gonna fucking happen—knew his so called behavior was caused more by the fact that he was too depressed to go party, much less come home wasted at three am.

That shit was gonna change come Friday though.

"Well, I know how pissed you get when a promise is broken," he started, dropping his fork onto his plate and looking at his mom. "So I guarantee nothing about this year." Smirk on his face, he stood, gathering his dishes.

"Ohh, no," she objected. "Sit back down. We're not done talking."

"Can't. Homework," he lied easily, not hesitating to walk through to the kitchen. Dumping whatever he hadn't eaten into the trash, he quickly rinsed his plate and put it and his glass in the dishwasher before disappearing into his bedroom.

Shutting the door behind himself, Kendall went straight to his desk, slumping down onto his chair and opening his laptop. His masochistic tendencies were coming back and he soon found himself back on Tumblr.

'Cause the day hadn't been fun enough.

Camille had reblogged the photo he'd reblogged from her, adding a comment of her own.

'_I don't care what anyone says or thinks, Kames is ENDGAME!_'

He wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that they actually had a ship name, or the fact that he loved the sound of it.


	12. Happy Birthday Ken--Katie!

_**A/N: **__Notes notes notes._

_Okay, but seriously. Wait, when am I ever serious...whatever. Um...oh! Quick shout-out to Lonelygirl91 for being annoying! Haha, jokes. But seriously, thanks for the fanart, so awesome! Means a lot when people do that._

_What else, what else. Oh, right, butt covering. I don't own iPhone. Or even an actual iPhone. I have just a standard slidey QWERTY keyboard cell. But whatever, it's awesome. I feel like I'd get pissed at Angry Birds more than enjoy it. Wow, have I lost focus. Probably because I'm not sure what to say here._

_Cute Kendall/Katie moments are cute. Oh, had this chapter planned pretty much since I first thought up this story idea so. Yeah._

_Also, I really wanna watch "Say Anything..." but we don't own it and that makes me sad._

_I'm gonna stop rambling. I am TERRIBLE with it today..._

_Enjoy the chap! I'm gonna go shut up now :D_

* * *

Tuesday passed by uneventfully. Well, other than Kendall sarcastically waving his beanie at Bitters as he passed the portly principal in the hall in the morning, then putting it on the second the final bell sounded out.

Aaaand more pics of him and James on Tumblr, countless edits and photosets, people he didn't even know or had ever talked to shipping them.

Oh, and work. But fuck that, it didn't count.

Most of Wednesday passed by the same way, until final period and he decided to check his e-mail on his iPhone. Which was a huge mistake. Not because he was supposed to be paying attention to Miss Collins' squeaky rambles about...well, whatever fucking class this was, or because he wasn't supposed to be on the phone during school hours. No, it was because of the return address of the top e-mail he'd received.

JD-at-jamesdiamond-dot-com.

No. Fucking. Way.

No fucking way.

Just...no fucking way.

He lifted his head and looked around, suddenly feeling paranoid. But not about getting in trouble, that he didn't give a shit about. No, he was worried that someone could actually see who the e-mail was from, that someone would know about his secret involving the singer. Well, secret_s_ really.

A quick glance at his bubbly blonde teacher—fuck was she annoying—then he turned his head and attention back to his phone as he hid it on his lap below the desk. He opened the message, having to read it three or four times before he could actually figure out what the hell it said.

'_Hey Kendall._

_It's James. I had Logan practically bribe the people at VIPNation to give me your email address. Hope you don't mind. I just wanted to wish Katie a happy birthday which I'm pretty sure is today. Could you please pass her that message? Thanks._

_XOXO_

_James Diamond_'

Son of a motherfucking bitch.

Five days of nothing, of no contact whatsoever—which is understandable, considering the fact that they hadn't exchanged information—then BAM! Outta the blue, an e-mail. And for his sister. No apologies for walking out, no explanation, nothing. Just 'tell Katie I said happy birthday'. What the fuck was that shit?!

Kendall found himself glaring at his iPhone, before another thought hit him: how could he be so sure that was even James Diamond? It could be some loser with no life posing as the pop star, not exactly a first. Hell, even on Tumblr there were people pretending to be him via anon messages, which got creepy when it was sex. Creepier when the fan was underage.

Okay, the e-mail could've been legit. After all, not like anyone actually knew Kendall was a fan of the singer. Well, except Carlos, but he wasn't smart enough to be able to do something like this. And he didn't tell Camille his sister had brought up her birthday during the meet and greet, so the curly haired female clearly hadn't done it either.

But still, he wasn't about to act like a naive dumbass and taken for a fool. Fuck knew he'd been played enough when it came to James Diamond.

Another fast glance up at Miss Collins before he hit 'reply', quickly typing his response.

'_Yeah. Sure, this is James Diamond. I totally believe you._

_Get a fucking life, loser._'

He didn't hesitate to hit 'send', despite the fleeting thought that it could've actually been the pop star. Oh, well. Served the motherfucker right to have someone be rude to him. Kendall had earned the right to act like a dick.

He spent the next ten minutes or so looking back and forth between the teacher and his iPhone, eagerly anticipating a response. Although he wasn't entirely sure what kind he wanted to get. Receiving nothing would mean he'd been right, that it had been some poser freak and Kendall had called him on his bullshit, scaring the fake away. A 'shit! Ya busted me. Sorry, just wanted a laugh at someone's expense' would inflate his ego because he'd properly figured out the truth.

But if it actually _was_ James...

Kendall's green eyes went to his smartphone, seeing he had a new e-mail. An actual reply. His heart started pounding, stomach twisting in knots, and he noticed his thumb was shaky as it hovered over the screen, before clicking to read it.

He closed his eyes as the message opened, not sure if he wanted to see it. As badly as he never wanted anything to do with that pop doucherag, he was still hoping it was actually the singer who'd e-mailed, who'd gotten in contact with him, who'd had his friend search him out. The blond wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it if it really _was_ a poser.

Taking a deep breath, he mentally told himself to stop being such a fucking pussy and use the balls he knew he had, then opened his eyes and looked at the screen.

'_Why don't you give me your number so I can call and prove it to ya ;)_

_XOXO  
JD_'

Kendall cocked any eyebrow. Was this dude for real? How big a moron did he think the blond was?

'_Yeah fucking right. I'm not giving out my number to some random nutjob over the internet._'

He was aware of the stereotypes surrounding his hair color, aware his grades were shit, aware that he didn't listen to his mom when she spoke, but he fucking knew that much. Rape or kidnapping weren't on his list of fantasies he wanted to indulge in before he got too old to.

This reply came a lot sooner, like the other person had been waiting around, watching whatever device he was e-mailing from, anxiously anticipating the response, just like Kendall was.

'_Fine. Then you call me instead._'

And there it was, ten digits the blond never thought he'd receive—assuming they actually _were_ from James. But surely a poser wouldn't go so far as to give out his phone number. He'd have to have some serious balls, not to mention some serious voice altering technology. That, or he was seriously calling Kendall's bluff, hoping the blond would back down in this game of chicken they were apparently playing.

Well, the motherfucker was about to lose this round.

He copy and pasted the number into his contacts, labeling it as 'James?', right as the final bell rang. Shoving his iPhone in his jeans pocket, he stood, wallet chains rattling against the hard plastic seat that had been numbing his ass for nearly an hour. His beanie went on his head, backpack slung over his shoulder, then he left the classroom.

Deciding to just wait until he was in his car before calling, he made his way through the crowded hall. His heart was pounding, about to burst out his chest, and his stomach was so twisted up, he thought he was gonna blow chunks right there on the linoleum. Which was fucking stupid. He never got worked up over a phone call, never freaked out over dialing a few digits.

Holy shit, his feminization was getting worse.

Kendall made it outside after what felt like forever, but the fresh air did nothing to settle his stomach—or his nerves. He knew Carlos was riding his bike to work, meaning the blond didn't have to wait around, allowing him to go straight to his car. Unlocking the doors, he threw his bookbag in the back before getting in the driver's seat. Where he sat. And only sat.

Hands on the wheel and keys in the ignition, he puffed his cheeks up, before blowing out the air. Was he seriously about to do this? Was he seriously gonna believe some random e-mail sender was really James and that was his actual phone number? And what if he _did _call and it _was_ him? What exactly did they have to talk about?

Katie. James had wanted to tell her happy birthday.

So, for his baby sister—and his own goddamn curiosity—Kendall pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and called.

Ringing sounded out down the line as he shifted in his seat, wallet chains rattling. He rested his elbow on the center of his steering wheel, hand on his forehead as he hung his head, green eyes focused on his black jeans. Fuck, this was a mistake. He should hang up. He should erase the number. He should-

"_Hello?_"

Have a huge fucking panic attack right fucking there in his fucking car in the school fucking parking lot.

His eyes practically popped out of his skull, his heart stopping then racing at twice the normal speed, his chest getting tight and his stomach getting fluttery. No way. Was it actually-

"_Hello?_"

Holy shit, it was! He'd recognize that voice anywhere, had heard it in numerous flashbacks that got stuck on repeat and countless dreams that haunted him nearly every night.

"_Kendall? That you?_" James' voice was less sure, less firm, sounding like he was questioning things almost as much as the blond was. His next statement was spoken so low, the younger male almost didn't hear what he said. "Please _be you._"

The pleading in the pop star's words got to the younger male and he felt a small crack form in his still shattered heart. "Yeah." He paused to clear his throat, feeling the shakiness in his own voice. "Yeah, it's me."

An audible sigh of relief came down the line. "_I wasn't sure you'd call._"

"Honestly?" he began as he sat back, free left hand wrapping around the top of his steering wheel. "I wasn't sure I'd call either."

"_Still don't believe it's me, huh?_"

He rubbed his thumb on the wheel, staring at his actions. "I don't even know what to believe."

"_Okay, well,_" the pop star started, seeming to be determined to prove who he was. "_If I wasn't the real James Diamond, then how else would I know that you nearly broke my fingers 'cause you squeezed my hand so hard when I sang that line about my heart being yours? Or that you put your hand under my jacket during our first meet and greet pic and that your breath hitched when I pulled you close? And how else would I know about that kiss in the dressing room and how hot and amazing it was?_"

Kendall's breathing stopped, air stuck in his lungs at the memory. Asshole just _had_ to go there, didn't he? He felt a stirring in his jeans as he remembered how it felt to be pinned between the wall and the singer's body, how it felt to have the pop star's tongue on his, how their hips moved together.

How James walked out.

Definitely a boner killer.

He swallowed hard before speaking. "If it was so amazing, then why'd you leave?"

Silence descended over his car, the only sounds being the students and vehicles on the outside. James wasn't saying anything, the pause lasting so long, Kendall had to pull the phone away from his ear to check the screen, paranoid he'd been disconnected. Nope, call was still going on.

"_I panicked,_" came the singer's quiet response.

The teen cocked an eyebrow at that. "Panicked?"

"_Yeah, I just._" Another pause as he let out a harsh sigh. The blond could practically picture the brunet sitting in his dressing room, fingers smoothing through his hair, brow drawn as he sorted through his thoughts.

Kendall wanted to be there, wanted to wrap an arm around the elder male, kiss his shoulder, his forehead, wherever. He wanted to reassure the singer that it was okay, to just take his time, that he wasn't going anywhere. Shit, in all honesty, he just wanted to hold the brunet, for any reason or no reason at all.

"_You gotta admit,_" James started. "_It was pretty intense._"

The blond nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck, blowing air out between his teeth. "Yeah. It was."

Silence stretched between the two males once again, neither knowing exactly what to say. What words could be spoken after that? How do you keep _that_ convo going? Did they even _want_ to keep it going?

"_Look,_" the singer was the one who broke the silence. "_I just wanted to wish Katie a happy birthday, so if you-_"

"Call her."

"_What?_"

"Call her," the teen repeated. "It'd mean a lot more coming from you yourself instead of through me." He didn't mention the fact that Katie would interrogate the shit outta him, more demands to know what happened between her brother and the pop star, more questions he didn't wanna deal with and lies he didn't wanna think up.

"She has her own cell, if you want the number," Kendall added.

"_Uh, yeah, sure. That'd be great._" James sounded like he hadn't considered that possibility, but was open to the idea. He repeated the numbers the blond gave him, double-checking they were right. "_So I guess I'll call her now._"

"Yeah. Sounds good, man," the teen responded, thumbing the steering wheel again.

More silence, both males reluctant to say goodbye. But they also knew they had to, that the conversation couldn't go on forever. James had a call to make and Kendall needed to get home. They had lives to lead, lives that didn't involve the other guy.

Which was why the blond didn't wanna end their talk.

But the brunet did it anyway, letting out a small "_Goodbye, Kendall._"

"Goodbye, James." His voice was just as low, just as unwilling to believe that this was it, that it was over.

But it was. And the singer hung up.

A small sigh came out the blond's mouth as he pulled the iPhone away from his ear, staring at the '_call ended_' on the screen. It was like the past couple months of his life was nothing but the singer leaving and the teen trying to figure out how to let him go. Too bad the brunet kept showing up before the blond learned how.

Putting his phone in one of the cup holders of the center console, he finally started the engine, the parking lot damn near deserted now. He shoved aside all thoughts, feelings, and memories the phone call had brought up, concentrating on driving and not getting into an accident.

Too bad he couldn't stop his heart from crashing and burning.

* * *

The first thing Kendall did when he got home was drop his book bag on his bed. Second thing was to let out a harsh sigh and roughly rub his face. Third was wondering what the fuck he was thinking when it came to...well, everything really.

Dropping his hands, he placed them on his hips, standing next to his bed, unthinking, unseeing. He was in another daze of sorts, his brain off to Who-The-Fuck-Knew-Where. A long moment—or five—of this and he finally snapped out of it and forced himself into action. He grabbed the items he needed before leaving his bedroom and heading down the hall to Katie's.

Her door was open and he could see her lounging on her bed, right foot flat on the comforter, knee bent, left leg crossed over it with the foot hanging. And, as usual, her personal game system was in her hands, the familiar sounds of _Castle Smashers_ coming from it.

Kendall knocked on the door frame before entering the room, the walls painted a sky blue as a compromise between the two Knight females. His walls were dark gray due to a similar deal, only it wasn't because of any feminine qualities of the color, but because their mom refused to have black walls in her house. Whatever.

Katie looked up, a small smile forming at the sight of him—or more than likely the gifts in his hands. She closed her game system as she sat up, crossing her legs Indian style on the bed. "What's up, big brother?"

"How's it goin', baby sister?" he replied as he sat on the edge of her bed, halfway towards the end. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," she continued to smile, her face almost immediately switching to a serious expression, like she was discussing a huge merger or a corporate takeover. "Those presents for me?"

"Yeah. This one's from Carlos," he informed, hanging over a small, square-shaped box.

"Sweet," she commented, tearing into the paper. Katie never really cared about saving any wrappings or packaging, only ever giving a shit about whatever it was covering. She let out an "oh awesome!" when she got it open, grin on her face caused by what Carlos had bought her.

"James Diamond lip gloss?" Kendall questioned, eyebrow cocked. He let out a snort. "_Wow_ is that gay."

His little sister tilted her head, lips twisted in an 'oh please' expression. "Okay, all these gay jokes are _clearly_ wishful thinking."

He rolled his eyes, totally disagreeing. Regardless of what he wanted the pop star's sexual orientation to be, the singer having his own lip gloss really _was_ fucking gay.

"Whatever," he muttered, holding out the second gift, this one bigger, flatter, and more rectangular. "Just shut up and open your gift from me."

She did just that, eyes going wide, lips parting with a gasp. Those same big brown orbs shot up to him, as if she couldn't believe what he'd given her. Which was just weird, considering it was simply their meet and greet pic framed. Not a big fucking deal really.

"Thanks!"

He shrugged, playing it off like the small thing it was. "No problem."

"No, really. I mean it. Thanks." Her face was serious as she looked at him, holding the frame on her lap. "For this, getting VIP tickets, entering that contest so James would call, all of it."

Kendall hid the confusion from his face, keeping his expression flat as he told her she was welcome. What contest? The fuck was she talking about?

Then it hit him. James probably told her it was some sorta contest thing, used that bullshit to explain how he got her number, rather than having to go into details about his relationship—or lack thereof—with her brother. Pretty smart when the blond thought about it. He just wished the brunet would've told him before hand so he'd know.

Not that they really talked all that much.

Katie raised an eyebrow in skepticism, folding her arms over her chest, 'tude full visible in her body language despite the fact that she was sitting on her bed. "There was no contest, was there?"

"Yeah, there was." He faked lightness, acted like he had no idea why she wasn't believing him when he was totally telling the truth.

"I'm twelve, not retarded," she pointed out flatly. "I don't believe you about this, just like I don't believe you when you say there's nothing going on between you and James."

His eyes closed in frustration, voice exasperated as he harshly sighed out an annoyed "Katie."

"It's cool," his younger sister stated before he could say anything else. "I'm fine with it."

He reopened his eyes, checking her face for any signs that she was lying, that she was just saying it to placate him for the time being, before tearing him a new one. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I know I said I'd kill ya if James took you onstage-" She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to object "-And don't deny it because all the clues say you were." She dropped it as he relaxed, his mouth shut, not about to interrupt. "But I didn't mean it when I said that" He raised an eyebrow, wordlessly questioning her. "Okay, I kinda _did_ mean it, but now that I think about it, I've changed my mind. It'd be really cool if there actually _was_ something going on between you guys."

The eyebrow shot up again as he turned more towards her, left leg bent and laying flat on the bed. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Yeah. 'Cause if the two of you hooked up, I'd get to hang out with him all the time. Not to mention I'd be able to get the rights to his likeness, music, merchandise, and-or become his manager."

Ah yes, the Katie Knight Plan to Take Over the World, Version C.

Kendall wasn't entirely sure how to react, other than letting out a long, slow "ohhhkay" as he rubbed the back of his neck. He was slightly stunned, not because she wanted to handle James Diamond's career, but because she pushed aside her own tweenage fangirl jealousy to let her brother have the pop star. More or less.

Too bad it would take more than his baby sister's permission in order to get with the singer.

"Hate to break it to ya," he began, dropping his hand on his lap. "But there really _is_ nothing going on between me and James."

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest once again. "Oh, please. The guy was _clearly_ happy to see you. Plus he called your little sister on her birthday. He obviously wants in your pants," she commented, motioning with her hand to the mentioned article of clothing on him.

Yeah, she knew too much for someone her age.

"Gonna pretend you didn't just say that."

She refolded her arms and shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's true though."

"Whatever you say," he commented with a sigh as he stood, taking a step over before wrapping an arm around her. Her own arms automatically went around his waist as she leaned against his torso. "Happy birthday, baby sister."

"Thanks, big brother."

A small smile played on his lips as he rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. Then he left her bedroom and went to his own.

Kendall let out a sigh as he closed his door, only feeling a little bit better than he had when he previously entered his room. At least his sister had liked her gift. He could feel good about that.

Walking over to the nightstand, he unclipped his keys from his right belt loop, tossing them on the piece of furniture before taking his phone out.

And seeing he had a text.

From James.

'_Can I call u after th sho 2nite?_'

Holy. Shit.

He stood there staring at it, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. _James_ wanted to call him? Seriously? He pinned the blond against the wall, shoving his tongue down the teen's throat, then left without a word, and now he wanted to call?

James Diamond could go fuck himself.

A new text showed up on his screen, one word that totally broke his resolve: '_please?_'

And with one word, Kendall totally went back on his resolution to be done with the pop star and move on.

'_yeah._'


	13. Can't Spell Conversation Without Awkward

_**A/N: **__Okay... I need to stop starting these things with "okay"...geeze... So, guess I'll start off with some shout outs! One to Lonelygrl91 for the awesome fanart! Hopefully you can find a cute quote for a new one ;) Also a shout out to idunnoofasgard (idunnoyournameonherelol) for the sweet message sent on Tumblr. Hope your hand is okay._

_Speaking of Tumblr, gotten in a habit of posting sneak peeks on there. So if you wanna see a lil somethin' somethin' before each update... I'm jus' sayin'..._

_What else what else what else...oh! Song credit: "Victim" by 18Visions. Don't sue, I dig that song, using the lyrics with love :D Jokes about not owning an iPhone or BTR, not owning Twitter...the James Diamond concert update twitter was inspired by at-bigtimeconcerts. Don't be mad, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery :D _

_Erm... Don't think I have anything else to say. I always think like "OMG I have so much shit to put in the notes" then I get around to typing them up and it's like *buzzer noise* nope. So if I forgot anything, sorry...just know that I love you. Especiallyifyoureview :D_

* * *

Kendall was a male of extremes, had been his entire life. He was either deeply overjoyed or extremely depressed. He loved something completely or loathed it entirely. He went from Radio Disney type shit to bands whose vocalists did more screaming than singing.

Like at that moment, where he had Between the Buried and Me blasting out his laptop, which was currently displaying a James Diamond concert updates twitter feed. Not that he was focusing on it and watching every update like a hawk. And his heart totally didn't jump in his chest every time "1 New Tweet" displayed at the top, only to sink when it was an update on which song was currently being performed. And he most definitely wasn't sneakily checking it during dinner, nor did he practically inhale his slice of Katie's birthday cake in a rush to get upstairs, as though that would actually speed the show up and make James call faster.

'Cause he definitely wasn't looking forward to the singer calling. Nope, not one bit, no way.

Fuck, he was annoying himself.

Resting his elbows on his knees as he sat at his desk, he placed his head in his hands, roughly rubbing at his face and slightly shoving his beanie back on his head. What the fuck was he doing? He was so fucking pathetic waiting around for a fucking phone call. And from a guy who had walked out on him, left him alone and hard in a dressing room, giving countless mixed signals. Okay, maybe he was harboring on that a little too much, droning on and on about it, but it was true. He shouldn't be giving this ass the time of day. He should be pissed. He should wanna yell and scream and cuss the fucker out for being such a rude dick, for acting like he could do whatever he wanted, simply because he was "The Great James Diamond, International Pop Star." Kendall never gave second chances, to anyone. Why should this douchebag be any different?

_'Because _he's _different,_' his brain reasoned. Or was it his heart. Whatever. '_Because to you, he doesn't feel like The Great James Diamond, International Pop Star. To you, he's just James._'

'_Yeah, well, that's the fuckin' problem._'

And it was true. It would be so much easier if he _did_ see the guy as some huge celeb asshat, if the singer _was_ some clichéd divo who demanded only green kiwi flavored jelly beans or trashed hotel rooms or constantly hooked up with a parade of skanks that were provided for him every night. But that wasn't this guy. No, James had to be sweet and actually listen to Kendall when he spoke, had to be really great with his sister and actually win her equally as hard to get to heart, had to be like Mary fucking Poppins and be "practically perfect in every way".

Had to look at him with those fucking eyes and make the world melt away, make his heart beat faster and slower at the same time, make his stomach flutter and flip.

Had to invite him to his dressing room and give him a kiss that went beyond lips and tongue and hit something deep down inside that he thought had died a long time ago.

Had to...had to just be _James._

Fuck, Kendall was in deep. And he barely fucking knew the guy.

He let out a harsh groan as he sat back, leaning so his spine was arched over the back of his chair and his head was tilted, his hand covered face turned towards the ceiling. The sound soon turned to a frustrated yell, muffled by his palms, but the feeling was still there, bone deep. He didn't wanna be in love, didn't even wanna be in lust, especially not with a guy like James. He was too clean cut, too goody-goody, too much of a pretty boy. Too famous.

And there was Kendall, a selfish asshole who was more concerned with himself, had a heart as black as his fucking boots and just as scuffed, had more baggage than Beyonce's private jet, and, more than likely, the beginnings of alcoholism. Not to mention he wasn't all that great to look at. But still, he deserved better than some rich and famous pop dick who was clearly just fucking around with him to have fun.

Dropping his hands, he felt them slap harshly on his spread legs as he raised his head up. Green eyes came across the laptop screen right as that blue bar appeared along the top of the Twitter timeline. '_1 New Tweet._' With a resolute sigh, he moved his index finger over the pad below the keyboard, clicking the bar and reading the tweet that was revealed.

'_Show is over! James was amazing and everyone had an awesome time! :D_'

Kendall couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't get his heart to start back up and he was pretty sure that he needed those last two things in order to keep living, despite his barely passing grade in bio last year.

But fuck. Just..._fuck_. Fuck!

Okay, he clearly needed to chill the fuck out. He was getting way hyped up, way overstrung about nothing. The concert was over. Big fucking deal. Didn't mean anything. Sure, the guy asked to call after it was done, but it wasn't like he'd be dialing the second he got offstage. He had other shit to do besides talk to some random dude back in Bumfuck, Minnesota, so he clearly wasn't gonna be calling right away.

His iPhone buzzed violently against his desk, moving across the wood and making him jump. Not 'cause he was scared or anything. It just surprised him was all. He hadn't been expecting it.

Feeling like a jackass, he grabbed the smart phone, taking a look at the new text he'd just received.

'_gotta take shower, meet w/ fans. Call in 10-20 mins, ok?_'

No. Telling Kendall about how he was about to get naked and sudsy in a shower was most definitely _not_ okay.

But he still replied with a '_yeah_.'

Then it was more waiting.

And more waiting.

And more waiting.

And he was _so_ not listening to this song.

Leaning forward, Kendall rested an elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in his left hand as his right index finger set about scrolling through his music library, trying to find something else to listen to. Only he had no clue what the fuck he wanted to hear, because he had no idea what the fuck he was feeling. Fucking awesome.

A harsh sigh escaped him before he smeared a hand over his face, leaving it over his mouth and chin, green eyes focused on the laptop screen. But he didn't see anything. His brain was going too fast, thoughts racing at a million miles an hour, making him unable to just _be_ in the moment. No, he was thinking about what was gonna happen when that phone rang, when he answered, when he spoke to James.

_If_ he spoke to James.

He wanted to be pissed at the guy, forcing himself to remember how it felt to have the other male walk out, the confusion and hurt that had hit him like a...well, he was gonna say "freight train" but that just made him think of the bodyguard, who seemed to be nothing but nice and took damn good care of Katie while Kendall was off making out with James.

Which just made Kendall think of the kiss he shared with the singer in the dressing room and how amazing it was, how it felt to have the brunet's tongue in his mouth, fingers wrapped around the elder male's wrists—and bandana technically—bodies pressed together as he was shoved against the wall. Fuck, it made his cock twitch at just the memory. He longed to go back to that moment, longed to have a do-over. He'd grab the singer's arm, pull him back, stop him from leaving and force their lips back together, make them pick up where they left off and go even further.

And his dick was clearly on board with that plan.

His heart probably was, too.

Come to think of it, his head seemed to be the only thing that wasn't okay with this, the only thing still holding on to the hurt and the anger and the confusion. Because he never really got an explanation.

Okay, he kinda did. James said he "panicked", but that seemed like a load of shit.

And now that Kendall was thinking even more about it, he never got a fucking apology either. A fucking half-hearted reason and no fucking "I'm sorry" for any of it.

All right, being pissed again clearly wasn't a problem.

"_So give me one good reason, I should be forgiven, you when I don't care anyway!_"

Oh, the accuracy and relevance of his ringtone.

Hitting pause on the music, he grabbed his iPhone, eyes darting down to the time in the bottom left corner of his laptop screen. Had he seriously spaced out for that fucking long? Yeah, he had no clue. Couldn't remember when he got that text. He could check, but that would require ignoring the call, which wasn't happening, no matter how he was feeling towards the male who was ringing him.

Kendall inhaled deeply to steel his nerves, trying to calm his stomach and stop it from doing that annoying fucking flippy thing and to get his heart beating at a regular pace—fail on all those—blowing the air out harshly. Then, he finally hit 'answer'.

"Hello?"

"_Kendall?_"

'_No, it's fucking Santa Claus._' "Yeah. Hey."

A breath of air sounded down the line, like a relieved sigh. "_Hey._"

The blond's head tilted down, small smile playing at the corner of his lips as he stared at his free left hand, watching it playing with the white frayed threads around the hole in the knee of his jeans. "Hey."

James let out an amused laugh, the sound causing that flutter to move from Kendall's stomach to his heart. "_I think we've established the 'hey'._"

A nervous "heh" left the teen as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah." Straightening up, he leaned back in his chair, cringing as it creaked, adjusting his beanie on his head as he slumped down. He cleared his throat, moving his arm so it was now laying across his flat stomach. "So," he started, not entirely sure where he was going with that. He just felt the need to fill the silence, to end the awkwardness, to try and get some sorta conversation underway. That's what phone calls were for, right?

Well, that and phone sex, but it was a bit too soon for that.

Right?

Right.

"_So,_" the singer repeated, fabric shuffling around in the background. "_What are you up to?_"

Kendall swung the chair around so he was facing his desk, eyes coming across the Lit book that was open on top, notebook to the side, pencil laying haphazardly across the lined paper. "Homework," he lied, swinging himself back so he was facing the side wall once more. He'd taken the book out mostly as a cover, in case his mom—for whatever unknown fucking reason—decided to drop by his room and check up on him—even though it hadn't happened for years, but that didn't mean it wouldn't suddenly occur in the future.

And, admittedly, he'd halfway read it. Or at least tried. He spent more time fixated on that fucking Twitter feed and trying to figure out what he wanted to listen to. Not all that conducive to learning or whatever.

"_Oh._" The elder male's voice was flat and the younger one tried to figure out exactly what that meant, what the other guy was feeling or thinking, only to come up blank. "_I should let you get to it then._"

"No!" Kendall shot forward, body bolting upright, panic overtaking him. It took a split-second for him to realize what a fucking drama queen he was being, how fucking pathetic that was, and to calm his voice down. "No," he repeated, much more even and cool, despite the fact that the fear of James hanging up and leaving was still there, still making his heart pound for a reason other than a physical attraction, the usual cause of the elevated heart-rate.

"It's fine," he added, hoping he sounded normal and not like a freaked out lunatic who refused to let the other male go. "I needed a break anyway."

Another relieved sigh came through the phone line and Kendall could practically picture the smile on James' face. "_Good._"

The blond couldn't help but smile, too, the heart pounds no longer fear or worry that the singer was gonna end the call. Closing his laptop, he rose to his feet and headed over to his bed, flopping onto his back on it, putting an arm behind his head. "So. What are you up to?"

"_Nothing much really. I'm just hanging out on the bus as we head toooo-_" he prolonged the word as he trailed off. "_Yeah, I have no clue where I'm going._"

A laugh escaped the teen's lips as he raised his eyes to the ceiling, crossing his ankles. Then it hit him. The singer was on the bus, probably on a bunk. With a thin flimsy curtain for privacy. And a bunch of other dudes. Listening in on this convo. "You're on your bus?"

"_Yeah,_" the pop star sounded confused before he seem to catch on, explaining things to the teen. "_I have the whole back room to myself, door's shut. Giant bed back here, _too." More fabric was being shuffled, most likely James getting comfy on the bed, then a slight creaking like he was bouncing on it. It soon stopped though, more shuffling, then he spoke again. "_Actually a bit _too_ big. Been thinking about getting a dog to share it with._"

'_I could share it with you._'

'_Whoa, brain! What the fuck? Not called for. Dick._'

'_Dick's the one wanting to fuck the guy, not snuggle all night. Although the snuggling is more the heart's department._'

'_I don't fucking snuggle._'

'_Yeah, we'll see about that._'

"_This is weird, right?_"

The last voice wasn't his own. It was James, reminding Kendall that he was having a conversation with another guy, not himself.

His eyes went wide in panic, momentarily paranoid that the elder male knew the younger was arguing internally—and what he was arguing about—but he quickly recovered. The dude wasn't a fucking psychic, just a pop star. Kendall was fine. Sorta.

He shifted around, pulling at his jeans over his left thigh as they rode up on him, trying to get physically comfy in an attempt to get that mental comfort back as well. It was probably just a psychological thing, but whatever worked. "Whaddya mean?" he questioned, hoping he didn't sound as freaked as he had felt.

"_This whole situation with us,_" James answered. "_It's weird. Right?_"

The blond hadn't actually thought about it, but now that it had been brought up... "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, rubbing his forehead before folding his arm behind his head once again. "But that's to be expected when the guy you were making out with runs out without a word. Other than 'fuck'."

There was a brief pause in the conversation before the singer spoke up. "_I meant being on the phone with someone you barely know. But that, too._"

"Oh," the blond stood there, mouth still formed in the 'O' shape for a moment before talking. "Right."

"_Yeah._"

Kendall knew it was just the two of them of the phone, but it felt like a couple others had joined in the conversation, others named Silence, Awkwardness, and Shit I Totally Fucked This Up By Saying The Wrong Thing. The blond started wracking his brain, trying to figure out what the hell he could—or even _should—_say in order to salvage this phone call. Seemed like all he did was manage to find the exact wrong thing to say at the wrong moment and completely fuck shit up between the two of them.

'_Great job, dumbass._'

'_Yeah, you're not fucking helping right now so if you could fuck off-_'

"_I'm sorry, by the way,_" James once again cut into his mental argument. Seriously, thank fuck the guy wasn't a mind reader. "_About running out._"

"It's okay," Kendall lied, knowing better, knowing he should just tell the singer the truth, tell him it wasn't okay and berate the fuck out the guy, make the brunet feel as shitty about it as the blond did at that moment.

"_It's not._"

All right, seemed like he was getting a second shot at it. Might as well take the opportunity presented to him. "You're right. It's not okay. I was just tryna be nice." Which was totally not how he operated, but he wanted to impress the guy, wanted the guy to like him, wanted the guy to wanna talk to him all the time, wanted the guy to wanna be with him.

God, he felt fucked in the head. Since when did he give a fuck what anyone else thought of him? Since when did he wanna be nice? Since when did he wanna keep someone around, care if they left or if they stayed? The New-New Kendall, the one who'd suddenly showed up after that first James Diamond concert, seemed a whole lot different that the New Kendall who showed a short time after he started high school. And in all honesty, he wasn't entirely sure if he liked it or not.

James laughed down the phone line, although Kendall wasn't exactly sure what was funny. "_I have enough nice people kissing my ass on a daily basis. How about you just be Kendall?_"

All right, if the singer wanted the teen to be himself, then he'd be himself. For better or worse. Like he told Carlos a couple weeks ago in the parking lot outside Sherwood's, if the guy couldn't handle the real Kendall, he didn't deserve him.

"Well, in that case," he started, deciding with a mental 'fuck it' that he was no longer gonna hold back. "What you did was really fucked up. Like, really, _extremely_ fucked up. I was confused for days, not to mention hurt like hell that I'd been ditched that way, and I deserve a damn good explanation other than 'I panicked'."

More silence, most likely the elder male taking the younger's words in, mulling them over, deciding what to think and how to respond. After a long moment, he finally replied. "_I take it back. I want you to be nice and kiss my ass again._"

A humorless laugh left the blond. "Too late now, Diamond. This is me. Take it or leave it."

A small laugh came down the line before the elder male spoke in a serious tone. "_As strange as this sounds, since I hardly even know you, I'll take it. Crazy, huh?_"

Kendall face grew serious as he looked down at himself. He brought his arm back from behind his head, fingers playing at the edge of his faded Linkin Park t-shirt. His voice was low, solemn, as he answered the somewhat rhetorical question. "Guess we can be crazy together."

And he meant it, hoping the other male would know what he was implying with those words. He knew it was crazy to be on the phone with a person he barely knew, a celeb at that. But there he was—there _they_ were, talking, well, more or less talking, with a guy he'd had about two conversations with—if they even counted as conversations—and he wanted to keep it going, make it last, make it so that they'd have more talks.

"_I like the sound of that,_" James stated, seeming like he was smiling. And damn if Kendall didn't smile right back.

"Same."

"_So,_" the singer started, pausing as the sounds of fabric shuffling came down the line, the blond figuring the brunet was shifting positions and getting comfortable again. "_Since we're gonna be crazy together, you should tell me about yourself._"

Kendall swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, he wasn't gonna go there. His past wasn't all that great a place, not something he liked reminiscing about. Talking about it was even worse. He wasn't a talker, never had been. He kept shit in, kept it to himself. No need to hash over shit that hurt, to bring that pain back up and screw himself over with bad memories, or burden anyone else with his bullshit. Last thing he wanted to be was a whiny asshole who only really seemed to care about himself and his own problems, unloading them on those around him. Keeping shit to himself was just how he operated, had always been that way. And after all the negative things that had happened to him, he'd only gotten worse at keeping it all in.

So yeah, talking about himself was the last fucking thing he wanted to do.

"Not much to tell," he stated, adjusting his beanie on his head before dropping his hand on his lap.

"_I disagree._"

Motherfucker. He was really gonna make him fucking talk about himself, wasn't he? Son of a fucking bitch.

He let out a harsh sigh, slamming his head back against his pillow, knowing there was no way around this. And damn him if he didn't kinda sorta maybe slightly a little bit wanna talk to James, tell the singer about himself, on the hope that if the brunet knew him better, he'd get another phone call. Or a thousand more.

So he quit fighting himself and just gave in to the other male's wants. "Fine. Whaddya wanna know?"

Kendall could practically hear James' smirk, could picture it as well as he could see his own palm. "_Tell me about your fam,_" he requested. "_You just have the one sister?_"

Yeah, not exactly what he wanted to talk about at all. Favorite movie? Sure. He could go on for hours about the "Saw" franchise, about the balance of gore and life lessons, how it truly was more than just a horror flick. Favorite music? Well, the singer knew the teen was into metal and hardcore, so there was plenty to talk about there. Hell, the blond wouldn't even mind discussing his favorite fucking color at this point. Just not his family.

Closing his eyes, he spoke. "Yeah. It's just the two of us and our mom."

"_No dad?_"

Fuck.

Kendall's jaw clenched, fist doing the same, bunching around his t-shirt. His grip tightened on his iPhone and he had to make sure he didn't break the damn thing. Took him fucking long enough to save up for the motherfucker.

"He bailed a few years ago." And that was all he was gonna fucking say about that.

"_I'm so-_"

"Don't be," Kendall interrupted, knowing the exact words that were gonna be coming out the singer's mouth. It was the same thing everyone said when they found out the Knight father had walked out on his family. "Not your fault." And that was the same thing Kendall always said in response. Frankly, he was fucking sick of it.

"_I still feel bad. I know how it feels to have your parents split._" James' voice was grave, serious, filled with the emotions that came from every child of divorce, no matter how long it had been or how old they were.

"Well, don't," the blond instructed, voice hard. "I'm over it."

The brunet snorted. "_Yeah. Sure, you are._" The sarcasm was dripping off every word and the teen wondered if he was as annoying when he talked like that.

Then he wondered why he gave a shit.

Still not wanting to talk about it, he decided to just change the subject instead, hoping to deflect the attention off himself and onto the other male. "What about you? Let's talk about you now."

More shuffling. "_Anything you need to now about me is on Wikipedia._"

"No," the teen argued. "Basic shit about you is on there, and if I wanted to read about your time in that children's choir or your background in musical theater, I'd go on there."

"_Sounds like you already have,_" the singer commented smugly. Kendall wanted to punch the fucker.

"Whatever," he played it off. "Look, point is I wanna know the _real_ you, not the artist, not the pop star, not the facade the world gets. The real _actual_ James."

More silence, more awkwardness, a heavy feeling falling over them. Just like it had in the dressing room. Right before James walked out.

Shit.

The singer breathed out the words "_fuck, Kendall_", giving the blond negative flashbacks, causing panic to well up inside him once more.

The teen shot up, sitting on the bed, face serious as he pointed at nothing. "No. You don't get to do this. You don't get to shut me out again."

"_I gotta go,_" the elder male started, voice dead, emotionless, causing the younger male to picture that expressionless mask the brunet wore. He was pulling away. Kendall could feel it. "_Been a long night._"

"Don't you fucking dare hang up!" Kendall practically growled through gritted teeth, jaw clenched tight, hand in a fist once again.

"_Night, Kendall._"

"James? _James!_" It was too late. The singer had hung up.

Kendall muttered out a "motherfucker" as he searched through his contacts, calling the elder male back. Two rings and it was sent to voicemail, meaning the brunet had chosen to ignore the blond.

"Fuck!" He didn't bother holding back, screaming out the swear as he threw his phone across the room, before folding his legs up, feet flat on the bed, elbows resting on his bent knees, the heel of his palms against the temples on his head. Every time. Every fucking time Kendall thought he was getting closer, thought he was making some sorta connection with the elder male, James would pull away. And once again, the blond was blaming himself for ruining it.

It wasn't gonna work out between them. He knew it deep down inside, in his head, his heart, everywhere. A relationship with someone famous wasn't gonna be easy, Kendall wasn't about to fool himself on that. Even if he never really had thought about going into an _actual_ serious relationship with anyone, much less James...But he knew that if he _had _wanted to do just that, then it would be hard as hell, especially when the singer kept pulling away like that.

He might as well just give up before he got even more invested, before his heart was really into it and he ran a bigger risk of getting even more hurt, more depressed than he already was. He had to go back to his original plan of getting over the elder male, of moving on with his life, of going back to the way he'd been before he was dragged to that stupid fucking concert. Once again, he made the resolution to just be done with all things James Diamond, once and for all.

Standing up, he made his way over to the pile of clothes by his closet, where his iPhone had landed. He picked up the device, glad it hadn't been damaged, glad it had a soft landing, then carried it back over to his bed. He knew the singer wasn't gonna call back, wasn't gonna apologize for figuratively walking out a second time, but he wanted to have the phone close by. Just in case.


	14. Mood Swings Can't Be Found at Parks

_**A/N: **__Who's ready for some bullshit excuses as to why this update took so long? No one? Well, too bad, you're getting 'em anyway! :D_

_I actually started this chapter pretty much immediately after posting the last one, but it got so depressing I had to take a step back for a while. Then I had to work on a oneshot for a story blog I co-run with a friend, then it was lack of motivation and not wanting to drag myself into this chapter 'cause I know it was gonna make me sad. And when I finally _did_ manage to actually work on it, it kept fighting me. So bad. Like, it didn't wanna be written. And I blame Kendall in this because he's the uncooperative type._

_So anyway, here's the update. Not gonna sit here and be like "next one won't take as long to be posted" 'cause I have no clue to be honest. But I _am_ gonna work on it as much as possible and hope like hell it decides not to give me issues like this one did._

_Quick shout-out to meheartskendall over on Tumblr for the awesome fanart! Love it! Thanks again, hun :D Same to Lonelygrl91 and mah Nathers, you guys all rick!_

_I'm getting distracted by "SportsCenter" as I type this out. Not that you need to know that or even care, but there it is._

_Oh! Another shout-out to Sophie who claims to hate me and be done with me, but we both know that's not true. She loves me and my trolling :D_

_Don't think there's any covering of the ass necessary. Don't own BTR, otherwise James would be making me cupcakes in the kitchen. And lets be honest, I'd be fucking him on the counter as they baked and not writing this thing. What else, what else...think that's it._

_Oh shit, nearly forgot! Happy birthday, __**Hybrid Theory**__! Linkin Park was the first band to actually mean something to me on a deep level and "One Step Closer" was the first song to show me that music should actually speak to you and your soul and your emotions, that it should say the things that you can't, that it can move you and change your mood, that it can make you happy or make you cry, that it can hit you in ways that people can't. If it weren't for this band, I wouldn't be typing this out right now. More than likely I'd be in an urn on my parents' bookshelf._

_Apologies for it being late and for it more than likely not being worth the wait. But here it is. Enjoy!_

_[/rambles]_

* * *

It wasn't a surprise in the slightest that Kendall got zero sleep that night. He literally checked his phone every five minutes to make sure he didn't miss a call or text, despite the fact that he left the sounds on so he'd hear them no matter what. But it was the mood swings that had kept him awake.

He waited about ten minutes after retrieving his phone before getting changed into a clean pair of boxers and getting ready for bed, during which his mood shifted, depression taking hold of him as it often did. And it was the same saddening thoughts of always, the same beliefs of not being good enough, not being what someone wants or needs, not being the kind of person that he should be. Getting into bed, he wrapped his comforter around him, like it would hold him and tell him he was good enough, smart enough, just _anything_ enough to make the ones he wanted around stay with him. He wanted to be five again, when hugs from his teddy bear would make the bad stuff go away, when he could knock on his parents' door in the middle of the night after a bad dream and they'd let him sleep in their bed. When they were both around. When his dad actually liked being around him. When he was good enough and worthy of his dad's attention and affection.

Once again, he was thrown back to that, to the moments after his dad left when Kendall felt lower than the dust bunnies collecting under his bed, when he truly believed he was unlovable, unlikable, unworthy of anything good happening to him. He sniffed in the darkness, hand snaking its way out from under the comforter to grab his iPhone off its resting place on his nightstand.

Nothing new. No texts. No voicemails. No apologies.

No fucks to be given. By either male anyway.

Kendall slammed his phone on his mattress, rolling over onto his left side, facing the middle of his bed. He glared at the open bathroom door a few feet away, wondering why in the hell he was allowing himself to get so upset over some guy. Some guy who was a complete and total asshole, as he reminded himself. Some guy who had walked out on him, hung up on him, had yet to give any sort of explanation or apology for his douchetastic behavior.

Bye-bye, Depression. Hello again, Anger.

He flopped over onto his back, shoving his comforter down his t-shirt covered chest, green eyes narrowed at his ceiling. He was fuming again, skin growing hot, muscles tensing, fingers curling into a fist. The fucker could've at least apologized for walking out the other day, he could've given an explanation when asked for one—for the second time—he could've...well, he could've done a lotta shit really. But instead he ran again, this time metaphorically.

Another iPhone check. Still nothing.

Clearly Kendall wasn't getting any of those words he wanted—make that _needed_ to hear. He wasn't gonna get an "_I'm sorry_" text, he wasn't gonna get a contrite phone call, he wasn't gonna get a remorseful e-mail. He was getting a whole lotta nothing and he had to deal with it. Because James Diamond was a huge fucking dicktard.

But dicktard or not, the blond still wanted to talk to him, wanted an explanation, wanted an apology. Wanted James.

Only it wasn't gonna happen. Because Kendall wasn't good enough, attractive enough, smart enough, interesting enough, _anything_ enough for the singer, for anyone. He was just some little shit who had nothing but a lifetime of rejection, a little fucker who wasn't able to keep anyone around, a little bastard who no one wanted, who everyone left.

Turning onto his right side, he curled up in a ball, pulling the comforter over himself, tucking it around his head. He checked his phone once again, seeing a whole lotta nothing just like before, then pulled his hands close to his chest. He didn't bother wiping away the tears as they fell, his sniffing echoing in the empty, dark room. The pain and heartache he was feeling was simply a reminder that he was still alive.

No matter how he felt about his state of living.

* * *

The next day, he was a zombie. And not a "raaah! Brains! Brains!" one, or those badass ones from the "28 Days Later" movies, just... it was how he felt. An empty vessel, void of emotions, void of thoughts, just the leftover remnants of something that was once living, but now was only going through the motions of everyday life on autopilot. His heart hurt, his head was vacillating between empty and a million thoughts, and all he wanted to do was crawl back in bed and pull a Rip Van Winkle. Which wasn't allowed to happen 'cause he had to go to fucking school.

Good thing he never actually put forth an effort there.

He showed up late, missing half of first period, giving even less of a fuck about that than usual, something he previously thought impossible. He shuffled his way down the halls between classes, physically there, but mentally elsewhere, totally not with it in any manner. He didn't seem to give a shit about that either, done caring, all out of fucks to give about anything or anyone, including gorgeous brunet assholes who play mind games.

Lunchtime rolled around and his appetite was absent, despite the fact that he hadn't eaten breakfast either. So instead of heading to the cafeteria to join up with Carlos, before going to the bleachers to meet up with his other friends, the Latino halfway reluctantly following, Kendall went to the back of the school, climbing up the steep hill a few yards away, finding an empty spot to be alone.

He dropped his backpack on the perfectly manicured lawn before laying down, using the bag as a pillow of sorts. Folding his arms over his torso, he faced the sky, not a single cloud to be found, sun shining brightly down on him to the point where he had to close his eyes so they wouldn't sting as bad. He hated it. He was never a sunshine, bright and happy day kinda guy, but given his current mood—or lack thereof really—he'd rather see clouds. He'd rather be laying there in the rain, in a thunderstorm, in the cold. Maybe it'd make him sick. Maybe then he'd have a good excuse to stay in bed all day, other than the depressive urge to just do nothing.

A heavy sigh escaped past his lips as the events of the previous night came back to him, to how James had sounded so distant towards the end, so cold, so detached. Was that how every conversation was gonna go between them? Assuming, of course, there even _was_ another convo. Chances were the singer wasn't about to try and make contact with the teen again.

But Kendall had thought that before, when the pop star had given him that apologetic look as he walked away during the concert, a face full of regrets and never-will-bes. Then boom! Outta nowhere, an e-mail, then a request for a phone call. When the blond had thought things were fully over between the two of them, it had started back up once more.

Only to end again.

Fuck his head hurt and he reached up with one hand to rub his forehead, knowing that it wouldn't help anything, but doing it anyway. This back and forth between him and James was seriously fucking with his brain and the lack of sleep from the night before wasn't helping shit.

And neither was the weirdo screaming out his name.

Kendall turned his head to the right, looking down the hill, seeing Carlos flailing his arms as he ran over, huge smile clearly evident on his face despite the measurable distance between them. Another sigh left the blond as he turned his head back to where it had been, eyes closing once more. So much for spending the time alone, away from other people, wallowing in his own bullshit by himself.

Seems like even this wasn't working out the way he wanted it to. Fucking typical.

Carlos soon reached him, flopping down on his stomach by his friend, laying perpendicular to him, head by the blond male's torso. He half-laid on his stomach, half propped himself up with his right elbow, left hand clasping the right. And the taller male just knew there would be a smile on the shorter's tan face, even without having to look at him.

"I found you!" he stated cheerfully, stating the obvious, as per usual really.

"Congrats," Kendall replied flatly, not looking at his friend, just putting his hand back on his stomach.

He could almost feel the shift in Carlos' mood, could tell when the Latino's face fell, when the shorter male's happy go lucky ran out of luck. "You okay?" he asked, seeming genuinely concerned. Like he always was. And in all honesty, it annoyed the fuck outta the blond.

But the clueless li'l friend that he was—or maybe he just didn't care—kept on talking, kept on asking about it. "You weren't in the cafeteria. And I went to the bleachers and Lucy and Guitar Dude hadn't seen you. I was worried."

The taller teen swallowed hard, wondering why the fuck the shorter would be worried, why he would care. He shouldn't, to be perfectly honest. Kendall was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, could handle his own shit, run his own life. He didn't need anyone looking out for him or worrying about him or caring.

At least that's what he told himself.

"Dude, I'm fine," he said out loud, still not moving.

"You're lying."

That was the problem with being best friends with the same person for most of your life, they knew all your tells, knew you better than you knew yourself, could figure out when something was wrong, when you were full of shit, when you were faking something. And Carlos had Kendall pretty well figured out.

Which really fucking sucked.

"I don't feel like talking."

"You never feel like talking."

"So why should this time be any different?"

"'Cause this time it's over a guy and I'm a nosy li'l fuck and I wanna hear all about it."

Kendall finally opened his eyes, turning to the right to see Carlos' bright and bubbly face, the smug look on his mug, one that the blond would wanna punch off had it been someone else. But it being Carlos, he couldn't. Bummer.

He laid there staring at his best friend, studying the optimism on his face, the expectation, the belief that Kendall was actually gonna open up and tell him what exactly was bothering him, something he hadn't really done in years. But as he thought back to the previous weekend, to when he told both Carlos and Camille the whole truth about everything, he remembered how good it felt to finally have everything out in the open, how freeing it was, how he felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. And most of all, he remembered how they helped him, how they gave him advice of sorts, how they were able to give him somewhat unbiased opinions from an outside source. Surely it would work a second time, right?

Plus it was Carlos. The guy had seen Kendall at his darkest, at his absolute worst. This wasn't exactly at that level—yet—so it would be easy to just say it.

At least in theory it was easy.

Another harsh sigh escaped him as he turned his head back, face towards the sky, squinting against the harsh sun. It may have been killing his eyes, but honestly, it was better and easier to talk when not actually looking at Carlos. "James called last night."

"_What?!_" the Latino screamed as he shot up into a sitting position, legs slightly bent as they laid next to him, hands flat on the grass as he somewhat leaned forward. His mouth was hanging open in half-shock and half-amusement, disbelief painting his face. "No fuckin' way!"

Kendall just nodded as he put his hands behind his head, letting the other male get out what he needed to say. It was the better option, to just sit back and let Carlos ramble or rant or scream or whatever, knowing that if the blond even tried to speak, the Latino would just interrupt with some other exclamation.

"Whaaaat?!" the shorter male drew the word out, tilting his head back before leaning forward once again. "No way! How? Did he like—I thought you guys didn't exchange numbers! I thought that was it, after the concert, nothing. How did he—what did he say? Did you guys talk? Did he explain himself? Did he tell you how he got his number? Oh my god, dude! What if he's stalking you? How's _that_ for a fuckin' plot twist?! Celeb is obsessed with _you_ and not the other way around. Oh my god! Dude!"

Kendall raised his eyebrows as he turned his head to his excited friend, about to ask if he was finished. Only to have Carlos' cupped fists slam down on his stomach, causing him to let out an "ooff!" and buck up slightly, coughing as the air was knocked out of him.

"_Dude!_"

Hand in front of his mouth, the blond just glared, still coughing, laying back in his previous position as his left arm went over his stomach to protect it from any further blows. "What?" he wheezed out.

"He _called_ you!"

Green eyes rolled on automatic. "No shit," he started, laying his right arm by his left. "I was there."

"How?!"

"With his phone."

"Don't make me punch you again."

Kendall quirked an eyebrow. Usually _he_ was the one making threats of violence. Carlos was really fucking serious about digging into his personal shit. The blond didn't take it to heart though, didn't feel special about it. He knew it was because of who the personal shit involved and that more than likely the Latino was just excited to hear some gossip about his favorite pop star.

Figured.

Another sigh as he smeared a hand over his face before laying his arms over his stomach again, face still turned towards the sky. "Yeah, apparently he had Logan talk to someone at VIP Nation or some shit and get my e-mail address-"

"Oh my God!"

"-And he e-mailed me-"

"Oh my God!"

"-But I didn't believe it was him, so he sent me his number and said 'call me, I'll prove it'-"

"_Oh my God!_"

"-Cause he wanted to wish Katie a happy birthday."

"Oh my—wait." Carlos' face twisted up in confusion as he shifted, pulling his legs around and folding them up so he was sitting Indian style, forearms loosely hanging over his knees. His brow was furrowed, dark eyes filled with a myriad of emotions as he tried to figure something out.

Once again, Kendall remained silent, knowing it was best to just let the Latino sort his shit out. Not to mention he flat out didn't feel like talking.

"So," he started, hand held out in front of him, as he seemed to still be putting it together. "He wanted to wish Katie a happy birthday?"

The blond withheld a groan. "Yes."

"He knew her birthday?" The confusion was back, his head slightly twisting.

"She brought it up during the meet 'n' greet, yeah."

The shorter male nodded as he took that in, added it to the other stockpile of info he had and was currently sorting through. "And he remembered. Whoa! Dude!" His eyes widened, huge grin spreading across his face and lightening his features. "James is _clearly_ into you if he remembered your _sister's_ birthday."

The taller just shrugged, not knowing what to believe, but refusing to let his hope build up too high to where he'd crash even worse than he already had. If that was even possible.

He really needed to stop thinking that, because every time he thought something was impossible, it happened anyway.

Fuck you, too, Universe.

"So then what happened?" Carlos asked giddily, that grin still plastered on his face, seeming like an excited kid hearing a bed time story. "You called him, right?"

"Yeah," the blond replied, sitting up, bending his left knee and placing his foot flat on the ground before resting his elbow on it. He stared down at his jean covered lap, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he let out yet another fucking sigh—god was that getting fucking annoying—trying to recall what happened next, but not wanting to remember at the same time. "Yeah, right after school in my car. And we kinda talked, but it was awkward. I gave him Katie's number to call her and talk to her and he did. Then later he text and asked if he could call me that night."

The noise the Latino made would be what the blond imagined a pterodactyl would sound like, a weird sharp inhale gasp type thing, his fist flying up to his mouth and teeth biting down on it. Carlos uncrossed his legs, putting his feet flat on the ground before tapping them excitedly, muffled giggles leaving him. Fanboying by proxy apparently.

"And you said 'yes', right?" the shorter male double-checked as he wrapped his arms around his knees, letting out a squeal when the taller one nodded. "What'd you talk about then? Ooh! Did you ask him why he left?"

The blond nodded, fingers playing with a blade of grass still attached to the ground, his lack of fingernails trying to scratch at it. "He said he panicked."

His best friend's face was pure "fucking seriously?", head slightly tilted down, expression of pure unamusement and disbelief on his features. "Panicked?"

"Panicked."

"Bull. Shit."

Kendall lifted his head and started straight ahead at nothing, fingers pulling blades of grass out the ground. "Yeah, that was my thought, but I never really got a chance to call him on it 'cause he changed the subject."

"To what?"

"Me. Said he wanted to get to know me." More squealing. "But when I said I wanted to get to know _him_, the _real_ him and not the bullshit version that the rest of the world sees, he closed up on me again, gave me some bullshit about how he was tired and needed to go, then he hung up." The earlier anger he felt at being forcibly disconnected came back and he threw the short blades of grass he'd plucked up. Not quite as dramatic or as meaningful, nor as accurately representative of his current emotional state, but it was the only thing he had within reach to toss like that. He sure as fuck wasn't risking his iPhone again. Minor miracle he hadn't shattered the device the night before, given how flimsy and prone to breaking they were.

"Wow," was Carlos' flat response, seeming as confused and doubtful as the other male.

Turning his head to the right, Kendall took in the Latino's solemn look, saw how his brow was drawn in thought once more, his lips purse, his right index finger waving back and forth as his left hand clasped the other digits. The shorter male started nodding, agreeing with some random thought he was having—if he was even having one—and the taller cocked an eyebrow once more.

"But he's clearly into you."

"Yeah, well, I seriously fucking doubt that."

"But he is," Carlos argued, laying his legs and sitting Indian style once more, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. Holding one hand up, his face was serious as he spoke. "He remembered you, he made out with you, he remembered your sister's birthday, he went through all that trouble to get your e-mail address, he gave you his number, _and_ he wanted to call you. If that were any other dude in the world, it would be pretty freakin' obvious he wanted you."

The Latino had a point, the blond had to admit that. At least in his head. He wasn't about to say that shit out loud. Because a much bigger part of him was somewhat refusing to see that, somewhat refusing to buy into that theory, because that part of him was too busy focusing on how James kept leaving, rather than coming.

"Right, but," Kendall started his argument. "He _isn't_ any other dude in the world. He's James assfucking doucherag Diamond." His earlier rage now fully returned, he rose to his feet, glare on his face.

Carlos remained seated, brow drawn again, bottom lip sticking out in a pout, before he lifted his head up to his friend. "I think you've used that insult before."

"Yeah, well, I'm fuckin' tired and pissed and my head's not working right, so I can't come up with anything else right now," the blond explained as he snatched up his bookbag by its strap.

Carlos seemed to ponder this for a moment before shrugging and nodding, deciding to just buy it, before he rose to his feet and picked up his own backpack, slipping his arms through both straps. Kendall just slung his over one arm, not giving a shit—as per usual—before heading down the hill, his shorter friend on his right.

"So what are you gonna do about James?" the Latino asked when they were about halfway down.

"Nothing," the taller male replied flatly, adjusting his strap on his shoulder, holding it in place with his right hand. "I'm not gonna be some whiny fanboy groupie who goes crawling up to him begging and pleading for him to love me or fuck me or what-the-fuck-ever."

More nodding from the tanner teen as they both adjusted their steps, going from the harsh slope of the hill to the flat blacktop of the parking lot. The metal head's boots scuffed along the tarmac, kicking a couple loose rocks, wallet chains jangling against his thighs as he walked, while the other teen's Vans slapped loudly against the ground, that usual bounce still in his step.

"So you're just giving up?"

Kendall shrugged, not entirely sure what he was doing anymore. "I guess. Not like I have a choice."

"Maybe," Carlos conceded. "But it seems like every time you say you're giving up on him, something happens to change that."

And damn if the little jerk hadn't just said what Kendall had been thinking earlier.

But before the blond could reply, a tall, slender brunette female walked over, questioning yet determined look on her face as her stiletto boots clicked on the tar. The two males stopped walking as she reached them, the blond one quickly taking in her outfit of dark skinny jeans and oversized white tee, eyebrow raised as he wondered what the fuck she wanted.

"You look familiar," she stated, head cocked to the side as she narrowed her dark eyes at him, studying his face.

Fucking seriously? Now? Of all times? And of all places, at fucking school.

"And you look like you're in my way." He raised his eyebrows in expectation, waiting for her to move to the side so he could continue on his way to the school building to get the rest of the day over and done with. Sooner he got to class, the sooner he could get home and in bed to just sleep forever. Assuming his insomnia fucked off, of course.

Which wasn't likely to happen, giving the way his luck was these days.

Which also meant the prepster didn't fucking move.

Her lips slightly curved in a sarcastic "haha, you're so funny, dickhead" kind of smile before it disappeared a few seconds later. "No, I'm being serious."

"So am I. Move."

"You're Kendall, right?"

His mouth wanted to let out a "Congratu-fucking-lations, you know my name. Your award is in the mail", but his mind thought better of it. Especially when his eyes came across a purple rubber bracelet adorning her left wrist, an all-too familiar gold engrave signature on it.

Fuck.

It was pretty fucking obvious that this random chick recognized him as being "The Only Guy James Diamond Had Brought Onstage", which clearly meant she was gonna get all up in his shit, pry into his life, ask him all sorts of annoying ass questions that he could barely handle from Carlos, much less this completely stranger who he clearly was already aggravated with. So, instead of dealing with any of her bullshit questions or digs into his personal life, he automatically went to defensive maneuver number one: denial.

"Nope."

"Really 'cause you look a lot like him."

He played dumb, ignoring the questioning doubt on her face. "Like who?"

"Kendall."

"Kendall who?"

"The guy James Diamond brought on stage."

He forced his eyes to roll, letting out a snort as he put a whole lotta "are you fucking serious?" on his mug. "Do I fuckin' look like someone who'd go to a fuckin' _James Diamond_ concert? Much less get on stage with that pansy ass motherfucker?" he questioned, gesturing to his black jeans, boots, wallet chains, and Funeral for a Friend t-shirt, a "c'mon get real" expression on his face.

That seemed to get through to her, a hand nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. "Well, no, bu-"

"Then why the fuck do you think I'm this Kendall dude?"

"Because you look _just_ like him," she stated, folding her arms over her chest as she stuck her hip out, attitude taking a one-eighty, confidence seeming to have returned. Fucking terrific. "Plus that Kendall dude, as you put it, was in a rock band t-shirt, too. Dethklok, if I remember right."

Shit, he hadn't thought of that. Oh well, too late now. And no fucking way was he gonna admit to anything, much less confess to this bitch that he was lying and that she had busted him. Would only make shit worse. "Well, I _would _commend the guy on good musical taste, but he clearly doesn't have it if he's at a James Diamond concert."

Carlos pouted out the side of his eyes. Kendall ignored it.

The warning bell sounded out in the distance, letting everyone know they had five minutes to get their asses to their class before being tardy. And normally he wouldn't give a shit and take his sweet time getting to wherever he needed to go, but in this instance, it was the opposite. He was ready to get the fuck away from this chick and her invasive questions.

"Gotta get to class," he pointed out. "Have fun with your shit music and if you ever _do_ meet that Kendall guy, tell him I feel bad he was forced to endure spending time around James." With a final sarcastic wave, he walked around the female and headed towards the school building, Carlos still by his side.

When they were a few feet away from the brunette, the Latino spoke, voice slightly low, a sign he wasn't sure how the blond would react to what he was about to say. "Don't you think you went a bit too far with the insults to James? I mean, you don't _really_ think he's a pansy with bad music, do you?" The last two words were spoken with a higher inflection, hope soaking every letter, like he was wishing for it to not be true and for Kendall to not mean the horrible things he said about the singer.

A sigh escaped the blond, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "No. Not really. But you're gonna keep that shit to yourself." It wasn't a request, wasn't a petition for a favor. It was pretty much a demand, an order, a "do this or I will kick your ass so hard you won't be able to sit for a month".

The shorter male kept looking up at the taller with his patented puppy dog face. "And I guess you want me to keep quiet about you going up on stage, too, right?" His tone implied that he wasn't happy about it in the slightest, that he had huge objections to it, that he wanted to turn around and tell Kendall to go screw himself—only in his more polite Carlos way.

"Yeah." A harsh sigh hit his ears and the blond stopped walking, the Latino doing the same, turning to the taller male. "C'mon. Just keep this _one_ secret, be my friend."

The shorter male let out a snort, turning his head to the side as he shook it in disbelief. "Right. 'Cause you've been such a great pal lately."

The words were muttered, but Kendall still heard every syllable, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Carlos shook it off, turning back to his friend, smile on his face that wasn't as bright or as genuine as the ones he'd flashed earlier. "Just forget I said it."

The metal head was a little lost, but more than willing to just brush it all aside. He still wasn't in the mood to get into anything, plus he knew about his best friend's penchant for just doing or saying anything to make other people happy, no matter the cost to himself. Side effect of his upbringing, Kendall figured. After all, everyone was fucked by their parents in some way shape or form.

"We're cool though, right?" he double-checked, worried the Latino would get fed up and leave him. "I mean, I know I've been pretty out of it the past couple months but you and me-" He pointed back and forth between their two torsos.

The smile on his friend's tan face turned to a genuine warm one that was more typical of Carlos. "Of course!" He stepped over to Kendall's right, reaching up to awkwardly dangle an arm over the taller male's shoulders. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

A relieved smile played on the corner of the blond's lips as he let out a "cool", slinging an arm over his friend's shoulders, too, before they headed towards the school building to get to class. And as he walked across the parking lot, Kendall couldn't help but be thankful for Carlos' clingy behavior.

First time for everything he supposed.


	15. Party Like a Rock Star

_**A/N: **__I've been told my notes have been getting longer and longer, and it's true. My rambling has gotten worse here lately. Stupid undiagnosed ADD. Speaking of, I'm watching Game Four of the World Series as I write this and Young just hit a game tying homer for the Tigers. Motherfucking bitchass fucker..._

_Anyhoo, LOOK! Update in a timely manner :D And not only that, but the next chapter is finished, too! And I'm about two-thirds the way done with the chapter after that, so hopefully there won't be any more huge waits between updates. If there is, blame writer's block, cause I'm having issues trying to figure out what happens past chapter 17._

_Okay, um... oh! I don't drink. Ever. I feel I should put that out there. So if any drinking/being drunk/being hungover mistakes are in the next couple chapters, I apologize. Blame lack of knowledge. I just kinda went on what I've seen outta friends when they're drunk. Except for the time my friend cuddled me, repeatedly whacked me on the head as she pet me, and stated my hair was "soft like a kitty. Pretty kitty. Pretty kitty. Pretty kitty"._

_What else... OH! Belated shout out to rockchickwrites for giving me the idea of having someone recognize Kendall at his school. I meant to put that at the beginning of that last chapter, but totally spaced. And she also makes THE most kickass fanart EVER! Last one 'bout killed me. HOT!_

_I regret nothing in reference to MTV here. Heineken is property of Heineken makers. I want Carlos to be my best friend. And my dog is literally scratching at my door right now._

_These notes are long as hell, too. Shit...whatever. It just can't be helped. Accept it as a strange idiosyncrasy of mine and love me because of it :D Enjoy the chapter! I'm off to yell at the end of this game (hopefully there's a positive outcome when I post this...)_

_EDIT: game ended AWESOME! THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT! THE GIANTS WIN THE PENNANT! (I know that call was for the NL pennant and I know I'm not even a Giants fan, I just don't like the Tigers. Except Verlander, 'cause you can't hate that guy.)_

* * *

A party was a party was a party.

Wait, what? No. That couldn't be right.

Kendall rubbed his head with his right hand, effectively moving his beanie back and forth over his skull, head tilted down so he was staring at the beige carpet. His back was against the wall, half empty beer bottle in his left hand, ankles crossed. And while his body was physically there, the rest of him wasn't. Not that much of a change from the past couple days really. Here, but not. There, but not. Just... gone.

With a harsh sigh, he put his beanie back in place, lifting his green eyes to take in the scene before him. Guitar Dude's living room was full of people, although the host himself wasn't visible. Probably off in the basement lighting up. Kendall halfway considered joining him but decided against it, realizing it would involve actually being social and having to interact with people.

Which, yeah, is kind of a "duh" thing, considering it was a party in a house full of classmates and a loose interpretation of friends. So obviously some sort of fraternizing would have to happen. It was kind of a requirement. Although that being said, his mouth was used more to chug alcohol than actually form words, the only syllables leaving his lips being "where're the drinks?" and "'sup?"

His eyes continued scanning the room, seeing—and hearing—the loud party goers, seeing people dancing, seeing people drinking, seeing people having fun. Unlike him. Although no one was having as much fun as that Mercedes girl currently dancing on top of the table by herself, red Solo cup in one hand, the bottom of her blue dress in the other. Yep, Guitar Dude had picked himself a winner in that chick.

Not that Kendall had any room to judge anyone's choice in romantic partners. At least Mercedes was around. At least Mercedes wasn't running off. At least Mercedes seemed to be into Guitar Dude, too, and wasn't afraid to show it.

The bottle of Heineken made its way to his mouth on its own really. And his mouth was the one deciding to let itself get filled, throat deciding to swallow. It was all beyond his control.

He pulled the green glass away, dropping his arm by his side, having guzzled about a quarter of its original contents—also not his fault—eyes scanning the room once more. Where they came across Carlos, sitting by himself on an armchair, soda can in his hand. Not that the guy needed the caffeine. But he sure as hell could've used a fucking smile in a can or some lame shit, considering how he was sitting there pouting. Which wasn't all that big a surprise really, considering the Latino's reluctance to come to this party in the first place. Yet there he was, alone and miserable, for once wondering what the hell was wrong with someone else as he stared up at Mercedes. Kendall had a feeling that his friend's need to make everyone else happy would cause the shorter male's own downfall, his own depression.

And wouldn't they just make a fucking awesome, fun to be around twosome.

Misery loved company after all.

Kendall snorted at the thought, bringing his bottle back up to his lips as he drained the rest of his beer, taking in all the other party goers, taking in the dancers, the loiterers, the couple making out on the couch, the TV airing some ad for a erectile dysfunction pill—shoot him if he ever needed those—for once feeling completely out of place. Normally he'd be off playing quarters with the guys in the dining room, or making suicides of whatever he could find in Guitar Dude's dad's liquor cabinet, or drunkenly playing the Les Paul he knew was in the office on the wall, making up his own serenades about how Jack Daniels and Jim Beam and Heiny Heineken were his only true friends. Which Carlos never seemed to appreciate, but the blond just chalked that up to a difference in musical taste. Whatever.

The Heineken emptied itself in his mouth—which he had no clue how that happened—and he contemplated getting another. But that would require him to move, as well as risk being social with whoever was in the kitchen. Decisions, decisions.

Luckily for him, a solution presented itself.

Lucy slid up to his left, leaning her side against the wall, a bottle in each hand, including the one stretched out towards him. She tilted it slightly, along with her head, a wordless "Aren'tcha gonna take it?" being spoken. Without hesitation, Kendall placed the empty bottle he'd been holding onto the low bureau next to him before taking the one his friend was offering.

"Here's to getting completely shitfaced and not remember anything from tonight," she stated, holding her own beer up by the neck.

"I'll definitely drink to that," he replied, clinking his bottle against hers, silently wishing he could forget a whole lot more than just that night. But since he couldn't, bottoms up!

And, yeah, okay, he knew that alcohol was a depressant and that it wasn't actually helping his mental state, just making shit worse, but that was added to the long list of Shit He Didn't Give Any Kind of Fuck About. He just wanted to be numbed, more so than he had been. His emotions may have been gone, but the physical pain was still there, like his actual heart had literally been broken, not some metaphorical cutesy li'l red doodle thing. The real organ that resided in his chest, the one that seemed to be having issues beating, the one that was hurting and making his entire chest cavity ache with a mixture of longing, sadness, and hopelessness. Which would make for one helluva cocktail and would knock him on his ass in five seconds flat.

Now that he thought about it, passing out sounded pretty fucking awesome, too, to just completely black out, no memory, no thinking. Just darkness, living up to its title in color. He'd kill for a night where he just slept peacefully—if at all—with no flashbacks of what had happened or dreams about what _could_ happen but never will. Fuck, he didn't know which one was worse: the fantasies or the memories. Either way he'd be waking up alone, cold, and empty, trying to piece himself back together after falling apart during the night. Only now he was running out of super glue and the duct tape wasn't working as well as it used to.

Well, since he couldn't fix the problem, might as well hide it, like that hole he put in his bedroom wall that he covered with a poster. Three years later, his mom still had no clue. Maybe it would work in this situation, too.

With the reasoning of a retard in mind, he brought his new bottle to his lips and drank deeply.

Like a Bat Signal had been lit up in the sky—or this case the living room ceiling—Carlos was suddenly standing in front of him, disapproving look on his face. Ah yes, the Fun Police, the name all the more fitting given his father's occupation. Chances were the Latino had made his way over to keep a closer eye on Kendall, make sure he wasn't gonna do anything dumb. The blond had lost track of the number of times his tan friend had followed him to Guitar Dude's basement, literally just sitting in the corner watching while Kendall toked up, Carlos getting a second hand high. And grounded.

Whatever. Not Kendall's problem.

"Hello, Carlos," Lucy's voice was flat, sarcastic smirk on her face, the same one she'd given the Latino when he first showed up with the blond. The petite female wasn't a huge fan of the short male, the two of them rarely seeing eye to eye on anything, especially when it came to Kendall. Clearly she didn't know why Carlos had shown at the party, since he never seemed to enjoy himself, and so far, this time didn't appear to be any different.

Carlos' attention turned to the raven haired female, muttering out a snarky "Lucy" as he gave her a heated glare, wordlessly blaming her for the Kendall's drinking at that moment. And, okay, yeah, she'd provided the beer the taller male was currently holding, but truth was, he'd end up with a Heineken in hand using his own gathering skills anyway. She just cut a few steps out for him.

Not that Carlos knew that, or even seemed to care. The Latino preferred to just blame Lucy for everything, causing a huge tension between the three of them, something the blond really didn't wanna fucking deal with on the best of days. Being in the state of mood that he was at that moment, he _definitely_ wasn't putting up with any of their shit.

Which was why he rolled his eyes and turned away, his bottle once again magically making its way to his mouth. Weird how that kept happening.

He ignored the angry staring contest his two friends were currently locked in, his own eyes roaming the room once again as he drank deeply, the green orbs not settling on any one thing for more than a second or two. Until they came across the TV.

Son of a fucking bitch.

Guitar Dude had left the flatsceen on some music video channel—clearly not MTV, who hadn't lived up to its moniker in practically a decade—and of all the artists in the world, _he_ just happened to be shown. In full HD no less. Fucking awesome.

And there goes the Heineken to his lips once again.

"Oh ew," Lucy commented, letting out a snort of a laugh, lip curled in disgust, eyes turned to the TV. "I seriously don't see how anyone can listen to this shit. It's so fucking lame."

Kendall's first reaction was to defend James, to say that the pop star had some pretty catchy songs, that it was fun to listen to, that there were actually some pretty good and deep lyrics in a couple of the tracks, not to mention the guy had a damn good voice. But he knew the second he said anything positive about the singer, it would raise some serious suspicions and Lucy would give him hell for listening to shit pop music.

So instead, he kept his mouth shut, swallowing the beer that was in his mouth as he brought the bottle back down to his side.

"_I_ don't think he's that bad," Carlos argued, arms folded over his chest in defiance, another glare aimed at the leather clad female.

"Yeah, well _you_ wouldn't," she responded, voice dripping with attitude.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you have shit taste in music. If this shit infecting my ears even _counts_ as music in the first place." She cast another disgusted look in the direction of the flatscreen in the corner.

"It does so count as music! And I happen to enjoy it very much."

"Doesn't count as _good_ music though, right, Kendall?" With that, she turned and set her black rimmed eyes on the blond standing to her right, expectation raising her brows as her arms folded over her chest and her hip stuck out.

Kendall's own eyebrows shot up, somewhat surprised he'd been dragged into it, when the whole time he'd been ignoring what was happening between the two of them, years of experience allowing him to tune out the arguments. His eyes flipped over to Carlos, seeing the way his own eyebrows were slightly raised in hope, brown eyes pleading to just agree with the Latino, to back him up just this once, to say that James wasn't a horrible singer and that his music didn't, in fact, suck.

But Kendall couldn't do that. "Seems pretty shitty to me," he muttered out, beer bottle centimeters in front of his lips before finally taking a drink.

Lucy gave Carlos a "told you so" look, which was ignored, since the Latino was too busy giving the blond a saddened, disappointed one, one that was just as bad, if not worse, than the puppy dog eyes.

The blond couldn't handle it, couldn't take the guilt his best male friend was putting on him, needing a way out of the conversation and fast. Luckily, his bladder chose that exact moment to start yelling at him to empty it. "I'm gonna take a piss," he announced lowly, putting the half empty beer bottle next to the completely empty one before walking away from his two friends.

He made his way through the semi-crowded hallway and ascended the stairs to the deserted upper level. Well, _semi_-deserted upper level, judging by the moans coming from the guest room as he passed the door. Lovely.

Kendall found the master bedroom without any issues, unlocking it just as easily, considering he'd done it a million times before. He entered the room, closing the door behind himself, and headed to the bathroom, knowing it would be the one that no one would bother trying to use. The bathroom downstairs constantly had a line leading to it and the guest one upstairs was no stranger to heavy traffic. So the lavatory in the master suite that everyone assumed to still be locked would be a safe place to hide out in for a little while.

Until Carlos goes looking for him.

Shoving that thought aside, the blond set about doing his business, washing his hands in the sink and splashing some of the water on his face. Then he stood there, hands gripping the edge of the counter, water dripping off his chin and into the sink as his head hung, mouth parted as he breathed heavily. His chest was still aching, making it hard to take in enough air—or at least that's how it felt. For all he knew, he could've been getting the perfect amount of oxygen and just didn't realize it, didn't know it. Seemed there was a lotta shit he didn't know lately.

Like why he was at that fucking party.

A heavy sigh escaped him, causing his shoulders to rise then slump, body as tired as his head. He should just go home. He knew Carlos would be fine with it, since the Latino didn't even wanna show up in the first place. And the blond doubted any would give a shit if he bailed early—except maybe for Lucy but she should go fuck herself and just be glad he came at all. His mom would be fucking shocked if he came home early, that's for damn sure.

Assuming it was even all that early in the night. Standing against a wall spacing out tended to fuck with your sense of time.

Brow furrowed, Kendall grabbed a hand towel and dried off his hands and face before reaching into his pocket for his iPhone. He ignored his lock screen—which totally wasn't that same fucking picture of James looking into his eyes as he sang and that was his story and he was fucking sticking to it—discovering he had a new voicemail. Curiosity hitting him, he dialed it up, putting the device to his ear to listen.

Which he immediately regretted.

"_Hey, Kendall. It's me. James. James Diamond. In case you know any other Jameses. Jameses? James? I have no what the plural of James is. Anyway, I, uh, I was just calling_-" There was a pause, presumably so the singer could figure out what the hell he was gonna say. "_Actually, I have no clue why I'm calling. Guess I just wanted to hear your voice again. God, this is fucking stupid, I'm sorry. Just delete this, okay? Forget I ever called. I just... Sorry._"

Kendall stood there in the middle of the bathroom frozen, hand locked around his phone, eyes wide and staring straight ahead, not seeing his reflection, not seeing anything in that room. He supposed shock did that to a guy, rendered you immobile, unable to perform the simplest task like swallowing that lump in your throat or inhaling your next breath. He was a wax figure, a mannequin, an immovable object that could barely even blink.

But, of course, his brain was working just fine. More than fine, judging by the twenty million thoughts racing around it. Sure, it shorted out and shut down for a moment there when he heard the first word of that voicemail, but it kicked itself back on shortly after, causing a tornado of thoughts and emotions to swarm in his head and leave the entire place damaged and ruined, with no FEMA in sight.

Basically he was fucked.

But it was all he could do, was just stand there and think. _Over-_think really. About how fucking good it felt to hear his voice, about how surprised he was that James had even called at all and the additional shock that the singer had even left a message—even if the pop star wasn't sure why, but that didn't matter 'cause there actually _was_ one—instead of immediately hanging up when there was no answer. He wondered why the brunet had called, what he wanted to talk about—if anything—what had suddenly brought on this urge to call the blond after hanging up last time then two days of silence. He speculated over whether the elder male actually felt bad about how their last conversation went, over whether or not he'd apologize for being rude, over whether or not he'd finally give Kendall an answer as to why he left the dressing room, other than "I panicked."

Fuck! He was left with more questions than fucking answers, just like always.

Finally snapping out of it, he brought the phone away from his ear, looking at it to make sure he hit the right button necessary to repeat the message, listening to it fully this time, instead of allowing the shock and his manic brain to take over and cause him to miss anything.

And he most definitely didn't miss anything the third time around either.

Or the fourth.

Or the fifth.

"_Guess I just wanted to hear your voice again._"

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Hooooooly fucking shit.

Kendall shook his head to snap out of it again, making sure the message was saved before putting his phone in his pocket. He couldn't fucking believe it, no matter how many times he listened to it. _James _had wanted to hear _his_ voice. The blond couldn't quite figured out why, given the fact that he wasn't the internationally famous singer, nor was he classically trained and able to sing fucking opera, but just the fact that the brunet wanted to talk to him was enough to get his duct taped and super glued heart at least back in working order.

Until reality sunk in.

He'd missed the call.

James had called and he _missed_ it.

Yeah, having a voicemail was awesome. He'd be able to torture himself fuck knows how many times replaying that message over and over again, just like he did with the live version of that song and the clip of the singer instructing his audience to "_give it up for Kendall!_" Whenever he started to doubt himself or doubt that anything had ever happened between him and the brunet, he could listen to that voicemail and prove to himself that for at least a moment in his life, he actually meant something to the guy he had feelings for.

But he could've actually had a conversation with him. He could've actually talked to him, gotten through to him, asked what was going on, why he kept running, why he kept coming back, what the fuck his deal was. He could've convinced the singer that it was okay, that there was nothing to worry about, that Kendall would be there for him, in any manner the brunet needed the blond to be.

Really, they could've talked about anything at all, from how their day was to whether or not they think "Star Wars" could be real and there could be other galaxies out there with species much like their own. Or they could've talked about nothing at all, just sat on the phone in their respectful places, just listening to each other breathe, every now and then asking if the other person was still there, repeatedly inquiring as to how they were, the answers never changing. They were both doing great, because they were on the same call.

Only it hadn't happened. And knowing James, it would be a while before it would happen again.

Kendall had missed his shot.

Hell, he more than missed it. He sent the puck over the glass and to the upper level of the arena. He'd completely fucking blown it.

"Fuckin' awesome," he muttered to himself, before smearing a hand over his face then putting both hands on his hips, staring at the room he was in.

He'd come to the bathroom to get away—and also to piss but mostly to get away—contemplating leaving the party altogether. Only now he was back to his original urge of getting completely shitface drunk and passing out, not remembering anything.

Well, anything from the rest of that night anyway.

New plan in action, he exited the master suite, fully resolved to getting wasted, no matter who tried to stop him.

* * *

Well, his plan worked well. Like, really, really, really, _really_ fucking well. 'Cause he was loaded.

And loud.

And more than likely annoying, judging by Carlos' pout as he halfway carried his best friend towards the Knight house.

Kendall was laughing—for some reason that was beyond even his fucking sloshed up mind—arm wrapped around the shorter male's shoulders, leaning on him as he let his entire body just hang. The Latino's arms were around his waist, holding him up, doing most of the work for the blond as the taller male dragged his feet across the sidewalk. But as much fun as Kendall was having, as much as he was enjoying whatever the fuck was so funny, Carlos was the exact opposite, all pouts and anger and just blahness. It was like they had switched personalities in a way. Maybe that's what was so funny! 'Cause holy fucking shit was it hilarious to see the Latino actually pissed off.

And the blond knew he should feel bad, knew he shouldn't be so amused by it. He should feel guilty that he put his best friend in that mood, because the other male had been looking out for him, being the overprotective buddy that he was and making sure Kendall didn't do anything _too_ stupid at that party, making sure he got home safe and in one piece. And he knew he should feel terrible for forcing his friend to attend the get together that he clearly didn't wanna go to.

But he didn't.

He was too busy giggling.

They reached the front door, Carlos leaning Kendall against the wall of the house as the Latino unclipped the blond's keys off the taller male's belt loop, Kendall moving his hips away with a smirk.

"You gropin' me 'ere, too?" he questioned, letting out a laugh. "Parkin' lot 'n' seein' me wet noddanuff?"

Carlos rolled his eyes, unlocking the door and opening it up before grabbing his intoxicated friend's arm. "Let's go," he said lowly, voice exasperated, clearly done with this whole thing. He slung Kendall's arm over his shoulders before wrapping both of his around the blond's torso, letting the taller male lean on him once more as they headed inside.

Kendall's feet dragged as he watched his best bud close the front door quietly, knowing he was doing it to make sure his mom or sister didn't wake up. 'Cause that's how Carlos was. He didn't look out for _just_ Kendall, he looked out for the entire Knight family. 'Cause he was good people. And Kendall wasn't. Which was why James didn't wanna talk to him.

Why James kept leaving.

Why _everyone_ kept leaving.

Except Carlos.

The two of them headed towards the stairs, Kendall looking at his shorter friend. A myriad of emotions washed over him, fucking with his already muddled brain, and he could barely understand any of it. Save for one thought.

"You haven' lef' me."

"No, I haven't," the Latino agreed, adjusting his hold around the blond.

"Why?"

"You know why." They reached the stairs, Carlos grunting as he heaved the taller male onto the first step, Kendall doing little, if anything, to help.

"'Cuz you looooove me," he joked with a smirk, teasing his friend.

The Latino just snorted as he rolled his eyes, focusing more on the stairs and trying to get them both up them than trying to figure out any sort of response.

And the blond knew it wasn't true. He just liked messing with the shorter male—especially when he was wasted—liked trying to get a rise outta him, liked tryna piss him off and frustrate him. 'Cause halfway carrying his drunk ass up stairs wasn't enough.

But no matter what he did, what he said, or how he acted, the Latino put up with it, dealt with it, didn't get pissed or frustrated or upset or run off. And what Carlos had said was true, Kendall _did_ know why, even through his alcohol addled mind. The blond once again found himself glad for it, even if he'd never say it out loud.

They managed to make it to Kendall's bedroom, Carlos unceremoniously dumping the taller male on the bed, the blond laughing as he landed on his back, legs hanging off the side. The Latino knelt down and set to work untying his friend's boots, knowing the drunk ass wouldn't be able to do it himself and was more than likely mere seconds away from passing out.

"Tryn' get me naked, huh?" Kendall joked with a smirk, lifted his head to see his friend's reaction, only to get a little dizzy. So he laid it back down, wondering when the hell his bed had been moved onto such a slopping hill. Or a teeter-totter, since it was now tilting the other way.

The Latino didn't acknowledge the blond, didn't take the bait, didn't do or say anything, just pulled the left boot off before setting to work on the right's laces. Whatever. He was never fun when the taller male went out, especially afterward. But Kendall knew Carlos would snap out of it, that the next day he'd be back to his bubbly, sunshiny self, that his current Debbie Downer attitude wasn't a permanent thing and was only for the night. They'd been through this before, and chances were, they'd go through it again.

The boots fully off and placed next to the bed, Carlos stood, taking hold of Kendall's long legs, lifting and moving them around so they were on the bed, the blond's body turned so his head was up near the pillows. The Latino didn't say a word as he went to the adjoining bathroom, the taller teen hearing the sounds of water running then stopping, the medicine cabinet being opened, a rattling, the door being shut. A minute later, Carlos came back through, glass of water in hand, still not speaking as he walked over to the nightstand.

He placed the glass on the piece of furniture, putting a couple pain killers next to it. "You know the drill," he stated, the two of them having done this fuck knew how many times.

Kendall just nodded, rubbing his eyes, feeling tired.

"Text me tomorrow so I know you're alive?"

A thumbs up.

A harsh sigh left the Latino's mouth before he turned and left, closing Kendall's door soundlessly, sneaking back out the house so neither Knight female knew he'd been there.

Kendall yawned, scratching his belly before rolling over onto it, only to move back onto his side when he felt his iPhone dig into his thigh. He removed the smart phone from his pocket, looking at the screen and remembering the voicemail he'd gotten when he went to the bathroom earlier. He still couldn't believe he missed a phone call from James, one he'd probably never get again, considering the singer's penchant for running and hiding.

Motherfucker.

The blond sat up, brow furrowed in anger as he glared at his phone, the voicemail repeating in his head. "_Forget I ever called._" Yeah fucking right. And he sure as shit wasn't deleting it, regardless of the pop star's request to do just that. How the fuck was he supposed to do either of those things? How the fuck was he supposed to just _forget_ that the male he had feelings for had actually called, had actually reached out to him once again, had actually tried to contact him.

Had forgotten to fucking explain himself once more.

Mother. Fucker.

Kendall's frustration at the elder male came back full force and before he even knew what he was doing, he was unlocking his iPhone and pulling up the singer in his contacts, hitting the "call" button without hesitation.

Drunk dialing was just always a great idea really.

It rang once, twice, and on the third time, he got off the bed, pacing over to his window. His free left hand scratched the side of his head under his beanie, mentally begging the singer to pick up his fucking phone and answer the goddamn call.

Which he actually fucking did.

"_'Lo?_"

The blond stopped pacing, standing halfway back towards his bed, hand no longer scratching, eyes open in shock that the singer had actually finally picked up. And his voice sounded so fucking good, even if it was a little sleepy and confused, the teen obviously having woken him up—which he admittedly felt a little guilty about—those damn butterflies back in his stomach and his heart pounding out of control, just like always.

He cleared his throat, snapping himself out of it, knowing that he actually needed to talk when on the phone. "Yeah, hey. Hi."

"_Kendall?_"

"Uh huh." Fuck, what was he supposed to say now? "God your voicemail."

"_Oh._" His voice was flat, Kendall panicking, worried he'd said the wrong thing once again. "_Thought I said to forget I called._"

"Yeah, nod fuckin' hap'nin'," he stated honestly, not holding back. He was never really all that censored, but alcohol definitely made it fucking worse. "Not when you fuddin' din' 'splain why you hang up las' time." Oh, awesome, he was slurring. Perfect way to sound in control of everything and pissed off.

"_Are you drunk?_" And, of course, James picked up on it.

"Dun' matter," the younger male stated, pacing once again, turning around when he reached his bed and heading back over to the window. "Need tuh talk tuh ya."

"_Can't it wait 'til your sober?_"

"Nope. Cuz you no call an' you run an' leave an'—" He paused, reaching his bed once more, sadness hitting him. He felt those same earlier depressing emotions, had those same self-hating thoughts that he always had. "Why do you leave me?" he asked lowly. "Why am I not good enough? What can I do to make you stay?" He sniffed, eyes tearing up as he turned around and sank onto his ass on his bed.

"_Fuck, Kendall,_" James breathed out, the sounds of creaking and fabric shuffling coming down the line, making the younger male think the elder was sitting up in his own bed. Or his hotel bed really, since the pop star was still on tour at the moment. "_You've done nothing wrong, okay? You aren't the problem here._"

A humorless laugh escaped the blond as he stared down at his dark jeans, fingers on his left hand stroking the denim covering his knee. "It's not you, it's me, right?"

"_As cliché as it sounds, yeah. I'm fucked up._"

"So am I," Kendall pointed out. "We can be fucked up together. Remember? We said that. We said we can be crazy together. I still want that. Still want _you_."

"_Kendall._" His name was a groan on the other male's lips, and he felt that familiar belief that he fucked up, that he'd said something to make the pop star wanna run.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out, jumping up to his feet, only to sit back down when he felt dizzy. He tried it once more, rising to a standing position a lot slower. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm fuckin' up 'gain. I'm sayin' wrong thing. Jus' don' hang up, don' leave."

The blond felt his panic well up once more, getting higher with each passing second of silence. His chest was rising and falling harshly as his breathing became shakier, stomach clenched, throat practically sealed shut due to the huge lump in it. Chewing on his left thumb nail, he stared straight ahead at nothing, impatiently waiting for the singer's response.

"_I'm not leaving._"

A long relieved breath blew out of Kendall's mouth, his entire body slumping as he felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders.

"_But— _" Fuck, the blond did _not_ like that word. "_I think we should talk tomorrow when you've sobered up. 'Cause chances are you won't remember any of this._"

Yeah, not happening. "Right. 'Cause you gon' call an' not hide for days or some shit."

"_I'm gonna call._"

"Really?"

"_Really_."

"Promise?"

"_I promise._"

"Swear?"

"_Kendall, I promise, I swear, I give a fucking blood oath. I. Will. Call._"

The teen just nodded, staring at the ground, thumbnail back in between his teeth. Fatigue had come back, his anger having dissipated, and he slowly sank back onto the bed, ready to crash. "'Kay."

"_Go get some sleep, sober up. We'll talk tomorrow._"

"M'kay." His eyelids were getting heavy, hard to hold up, and he rubbed them before shaking his head, trying to stay up, trying to stay on the phone.

But once again, James was ending the conversation. Only this time, it didn't freak Kendall out, didn't cause any panic. He figured it was because the singer had promised to call again, swore he'd reach out to the teen and talk to him again, and he had a gut feeling the pop star was a man of his word, that he wouldn't just say that shit just to say it.

"_Goodnight, Kendall._"

"Ni', Jims."

The singer laughed before repeating "_'night_" then hanging up, the conversation over.

Kendall yawned, reaching over to put the iPhone on his nightstand, before allowing gravity to pull his body down so he was laying on his side. His eyelids were the next to fall victim to the force, falling down and shutting the world out, as his body became heavier. It didn't take long for sleep to claim him and drag him off to his blacked out state, smile on his face.


	16. Can I Get a What Now?

_**A/N:**__If you didn't see this chapter title coming after the last one, you're blind._

_I'm sure I have a million things to say here, but I am just in such a "I don't give a fuck about anything" mood so... I don't even know how I feel about this chapter but here it is._

_Don't own Twitter, blahblahblah. I dunno. Meh._

_Shortest notes in a long ass time. Enjoy the chapter._

* * *

Hangovers are fun.

No, they're not. Fuck, even his own sarcasm was annoying at that moment.

Kendall woke up with a groan, laying on his stomach, arm hanging off the side of his bed, pool of drool on his pillow. Always fun. Better than a pool of puke.

Speaking of...

He clamped his mouth shut, pushing himself up and getting out of bed, ignoring the throbbing in his head and the fatigue in his muscles as he made his way to the bathroom. Lifting the seat up, he knelt around the toilet, before leaning over it and emptying the contents of his stomach into the ceramic bowl.

Carlos would tell him this was a clue that he shouldn't drink as much, that a couple beers here and there were fine, but that the blond clearly went overboard with it. The Latino would tell the blond this was a sign that it was time to cut back, _way_ back, that it obviously wasn't good for him, that he was damaging his body, and blah blah blah.

Whatever. Kendall just wanted to forget life for a while. And it worked. He could barely remember half of the previous night. After he left that bathroom, he'd gone to the kitchen, stealing some jock's tequila shots and downing them himself, glaring when the fucker protested, succeeding in getting the douche to back off. Couple more shots, another beer, everything else was just...blank.

So clearly, it was a successful night.

Stomach empty, he flushed the toilet, groaning as he got up. A quick rinse out with some mouthwash and he left the bathroom, feet shuffling, hand on his forehead. In the back of his mind he registered he was still in the clothes he put on the day before, including his beanie, and that he most definitely needed a shower. But at that moment, he just wanted to get back in bed and fall back asleep.

He made it to his bed—barely—slowly sinking down onto it. A glass of water and a few painkillers sat on his nightstand and he figured Carlos had left them there for him. As always. He put all the pills in his mouth at once, swallowing them down with the help of the clear liquid, drinking a little more than necessary since he was thirsty as fuck. Once he felt quenched, he put the glass back on the nightstand, letting out a deep breath as he put his hands on either side of him, gripping the edge of the bed.

He felt weird. Not just hungover weird, but...weird. He knew his reason for drinking last night, and it wasn't his usual bullshit he was trying to forget. It was all that shit with James. And that voicemail. Fuck, he'd forgotten about that fucking voicemail.

Lifting his hands, he dug the heels of them in his eyes, rubbing roughly. He missed a call from the singer, possibly while he was off making fun of the guy and disappointing his best friend, all so his other friend didn't get suspicious. And the pop star had hung up, telling the blond to forget he called, meaning he more than likely wasn't gonna be dialing the teen's number up again. Shit.

Yet, Kendall didn't feel upset, didn't feel depressed, wasn't completely bummed out and wanting to do nothing but stay in bed and numb himself out. Okay, he wanted to stay in bed, but that was due to the fact that his head was screaming at him and his stomach was churning. Point was he wasn't dealing with the usual overwhelming sadness he felt when it came to James and everything surrounding their situation.

His hands dropped as his eyes widened. Had it finally happened? Had he _actually_ gotten over the brunet fuckass?

The way his heart started pounding and his stomach started flipping—for a reason other than nausea—at the thought of the singer's face told him that wasn't the case, that he was still as into the pop star as he had been when he got that message on his phone. So what the fuck was going on?

The iPhone beeped from its spot on the nightstand and Kendall grabbed it, seeing he had a new Twitter DM from Camille. He let out a sigh as he clicked to open the message, slightly squinting at the device's bright screen as he read it.

'_rumor on the internet is ur a dick._'

What the fuck?

His brow furrowed as he typed his response, asking what the hell she was talking about. He got an answer a few seconds later.

'_sum grl on tumblr is sayin she goes 2 ur skool, that she talked 2 u & u were a dik, lied & said u werent kendall from the jd concert_'

Oh fucking terrific. Exactly what he fucking needed at that moment, fucking internet drama and some bullshit over what he said to some random chick at his school. Son of a fucking bitch.

A second DM came in before he got a chance to reply to the first.

'_defended u, said she had no proof that it was really u, could've been sum guy who just LOOKS like that kendall guy from the jd sho..._'

Then a third.

'_& that she shouldnt talk shit a/b sum1 she doesnt kno, guy from skool couldve been havin bad day. plus i doubt jd would go 4 an asshole_'

Then a fourth.

'_btw I dont think ur a dik, im sure she was a bitch. totes understand y u didnt claim 2 b guy from jd sho. ill always bak u up bud *heart*_'

A tired smile played on his lips, feeling incredibly grateful for having a friend like her, for having someone in his life who had his back, who would defend him to the end, who would back him up no matter what stupid ass choices he made. Well, someone other than Carlos really, who had his reasons for doing what he did. Kendall didn't deserve either of them.

Smile still there, he typed up his response.

'_thx cam. preciate it. glad 2 kno ur always there 4 me & that u understand._'

'_cuz ik ud do the same 4 me_' was her reply.

He hesitated for a long moment before sending her a '_u fukin kno it._'

She sent a big smiley in response, something he didn't reply to. In all honesty, he was contemplating telling her about James' phone call, and the voicemail he received the night before, only it wasn't exactly something he could easily send over DMs. He'd rather do it face to face, over Skype or something, but his hangover pretty much killed any desire he had to deal get up off the bed, much less deal with his laptop. So instead, he just put his iPhone back on his nightstand, taking his beanie off his head and running his hand through his hair repeatedly, scratching his scalp. Ew. _Definitely_ needed a shower.

Which meant he'd have to get up. Fuck.

He flopped back onto his spine, hands clasped and covering his eyes, legs bent and hanging over the side of his bed. He wasn't moving. For anything. Not for a long, long, _long_ while.

His iPhone clearly wasn't on board with that plan, as it started blasting his Eighteen Visions ringtone. Motherfucker.

With a groan, Kendall slowly pushed himself back into a sitting position, grabbing the smart phone and looking at the screen, seeing "_James?_" displayed on it. He really should change that name in his contacts, considering he now knew for a fact that it really _was_ the pop star's num-

Wait a minute.

Wait a fucking minute.

His eyebrows shot up, eyes widening—then quickly going back to normal size, since that shit hurt—as he stared at the name of who was calling. What in the actual fuck?! First the guy says "delete this message, forget I called", now he's dialing him up again? What in the hell was going on?!

'_Answer it, you stupid fuck! Before the voicemail does it!_'

'_Oh! Fuck! Right._'

Feeling like a dumbass, he hit 'answer', letting out a rough "Hello?"

"_How's the hangover?_"

Kendall raised an eyebrow. "How'd you know I'm hungover?"

"_Figured it would kinda be a given, considering how wasted you were when you called me last night._"

And there go his eyes popping out his skull again. Oh fuck. Ohhhhh fuck! He drunk dialed?! And not only that, but he drunk dialed the guy he was into.

Leaning forward, Kendall rested his left elbow on his knee, rubbing his forehead with his hand. He could only imagine what kinda angry bullshit he spouted out, how badly he embarrassed himself in front of the singer, how much of an ass he made of himself.

"_You don't remember calling me, do you?_" James stated, letting out a small laugh. "_Yeah, figured you wouldn't._"

"I am so fucking sorry," the blond stated, eyes closed, hand now still as it cradled his forehead. He had no clue what he was apologizing for, but he felt like he needed to.

"_Don't be,_" the singer instructed, sounding like he wasn't just saying it to make the teen feel better, sounding like he actually meant it. But the blond couldn't help but feel worried and panicked that he'd said or done the wrong thing, his chest tight with the feeling. "_I'm actually glad you did it._"

He raised an eyebrow once more. "You're _glad_ I drunk dialed."

"_Well, I would've preferred it if you were sober and could remember it, but yeah. 'Cause despite the fact that you were wasted, it reminded me how much I like talking to you._" His voice was low during the second half of his last statement, but the blond still heard every syllable.

Both eyebrows shot up at this, Kendall sitting straight up, left arm laying over his leg and his hand dangling in between the long limbs. "Really?"

A laugh sounded down the line. "_Really._"

The smile that spread across the blond's face hurt more than his hungover head, but he didn't care. James liked talking to him. "That mean you'll call more often?"

"_As often as I can. Easier to be crazy together that way, right?_"

"Right." He was sure his smile was audible through his voice, but he didn't care. The teen felt like his heart was literally flying, despite the broken, shattered pieces, despite the fact that it was barely being held together anymore. James remembered. He remembered their deal to be crazy together, remembered their second phone conversation, remembered so much stuff about his time with Kendall. Fuck, the blond wanted to grab the brunet's face and kiss him until neither of them could breathe, he was that overjoyed.

He finally understood Carlos' stupid squeals and the pterodactyl noises and his spastic lil leg kick things he did. 'Cause he kinda wanted to do it himself.

The still working part of his brain told him that would be a really bad fucking idea, considering how the other, much bigger, part was pounding like a double-kick drum in a hardcore song. Not to mention the singer would think he was a freak.

"_So,_" James started, sounding like he was getting comfortable. "_What are you up to?_"

Still smiling, Kendall laid back, tucking an arm under his head. "Just woke up."

"_Lazy ass._"

"What?" He lifted his head to see his alarm clock on the nightstand as he spoke. "I am not—" 2:10 PM. "—okay, maybe a lil bit. But I have my reasons."

Another laugh, the sound more musical than any of the pop star's songs. "_Was it worth it? Whatever happened last night, was it worth the hangover?_"

Kendall thought about it, about the wallflower routine he was pulling throughout half the party, about how badly he just wanted to go home and be left the fuck alone, about how shitty he felt after realizing he missed the singer's call, about how he couldn't even remember half the night but somehow knew he'd been a dick to Carlos once again when all the Latino was trying to do was help.

About how he pulled Drinking Faux Pas Number One and drunk dialed.

"Yeah. Got you to call."

The blond could practically hear the brunet smile down the line. "_Then it was _definitely_ worth it then._"

"What about you?" the teen asked, grabbing his beanie off the bed and flipping it around on his torso. "What are you up to?"

"_Being bored in my dressing room, trying not to go insane as I wait on soundcheck._"

"Ah, the glamorous life of being a rock star," Kendall replied sarcastically, still playing with his beanie.

"_You know it. Oh, so much fun at all times. I can't even handle how crazy things are right now._"

"Hmm," was all Kendall could think to say as he stared at his gray wool cap, not really knowing what it was actually like backstage. Although he had to admit, it would be pretty damn cool to see it first hand. And, if he was fully being honest with himself, despite the countless bands he was into and would love to hang out with, he knew that he'd most like to be spending time with James backstage.

Especially if his second time in the singer's dressing room went like the first.

With a different ending, of course.

A lull hit their conversation, neither male speaking, and Kendall remembered his thoughts in the bathroom after listening to that voicemail, about how he'd be satisfied just being on the phone with the singer, talking not actually necessary. He'd been right. Just knowing James was on the other end of the line was enough for that smile to stay on his face, enough to make him happy, enough to gratify him.

"_So, should we do that whole awkward getting to know you conversation? I promise not to talk about your dad._"

Wow, he really _did_ remember everything.

"Depends," the blond started. "Am I allowed to get to know you, too? Other than wikipedia bullshit."

There was a pause in the conversation once again and Kendall could imagine James running his fingers through his hair like he seemed to do when thinking.

"It's a two-way street," the teen pointed out. "I'm not gonna sit here and tell you all about myself when I'm not getting anything in response. Doesn't exactly seem fair."

The elder male sighed out a "_yeah, I know_", the blond perfectly picturing how the brunet would look as he did that. "_Guess I kinda hafta, huh?_"

"Yep," Kendall smirked, slowly sitting up, then turning himself around so he was leaning back against his headboard, pillows propping him up.

"_All right. But you go first._"

"Fine." The blond scrunched up his face, not happy about it, but knowing it would be worth it if and when he learned more about the singer. "Whaddya wanna know? And nothing too difficult, my head kills."

The brunet laughed. "_All right. Well, how'd your sister like her birthday?_"

Kendall's brow furrowed. The guy says he wanted to know more about the blond, yet he asks about the younger sister? Seriously? "Fine. Thanks for calling her by the way, probably the best present she's ever gotten."

"_Glad I could make her happy._" He sounded completely genuine, like he truly was pleased he brought joy to a little girl he barely knew.

"She said you did it 'cause you want in my pants." The words came out before the teen had fully thought them up, his slowed down, muddled up brain barely able to keep up with his mouth, that was clearly having no speed issues at that moment. Awesome.

But instead of being freaked out, instead of stuttering or stammering or feeling awkward at the younger male's outburst, the elder just laughed, sounding more amused than anything. "_Well, she's not wrong about that._"

He lost track of how many times his eyes had gone wide that morning. Sure, he'd hoped for that, had thought it was heading that way during their make-out session, considering how heated it was, but for the singer to actually admit to it, to confess that he did, in fact, wanna sleep with the teen, that was a whole 'nother thing entirely.

Despite the lack of action in his upper head, his lower one was clearly still alert, given the way it was twitching in his boxers.

"_I think that should count as something you learned about me,_" James stated after a long silent moment. "_After all, no one else knows about that._"

"Not even Logan?"

Silence, which meant Kendall was right.

"_Gotta confide in someone, right?_" It was a rhetorical question, so the blond didn't answer, just let the brunet keep talking. "_I've known Logan my entire life. He's like a brother to me and I can trust him with anything and everything and I know for a fact he would never sell me out. And with everything that's gone down between you and me, I needed someone to talk to. So I talk to Logan, told him everything, and he helped me out._"

Kendall found himself nodding, fully understanding where the elder male was coming from, considering how he did the same thing with Carlos, and mostly with Camille. Both of whom were gonna fucking freak when they found out about this phone call.

"So," the blond started. "You told Logan about the dressing room, too?"

He could practically hear the lump being swallowed down the phone line, the singer's voice lower as he spoke a "_yeah_" before continuing at a slightly higher volume. "_And I know I seriously owe you an explanation about that, something more than just 'I panicked'—even though that's the truth, just by the way—but—_" He paused, letting out a sigh, the sounds of creaking leather sounding down the phone line, probably the singer shifting positions on his couch. "_But I just. Can't. Other than what I told you last night, that I'm fucked up._"

"I'm fucked up, too," the teen pointed out. "Everyone is to some degree."

"_Yeah, you said that last night. Also said we could be fucked up together._"

He'd have to thank his drunk self somehow. Maybe with a shower at some point. _After_ this phone call was over, of course, which hopefully won't be for a long time. "And can we?"

"_I called, didn't I?_"

"Yeah." That stupid, face hurting smile was back, fully audible, too. "Good point."

"_Then there ya go._" The elder male's own grin was heard down the line, too, and the younger felt those butterflies in his stomach threaten to somehow fly out of him, they were fluttering so bad. And fuck, did that some lame as hell. "_So, back to you. You're in high school, right?_"

Not his favorite topic, harping on their age difference—which wasn't even all that bad really—and the fact that in some states, he wasn't exactly legal. Plus. It was high school. Fuck that. "Yeah, a senior."

"_Graduating soon?_"

"Not soon enough," he muttered, smearing a hand over his face.

The singer laughed. "_I take it you hate school then._"

"I hate everything," he confessed plainly, slapping his hand on his torso, feeling his beanie still resting on it.

"_But you like me._" It was a statement, not a question, James seeming aware of how Kendall felt about him. Fucking awesome. The whole time the blond thought he was good at hiding it, but apparently he wasn't.

"Yeah," he admitted lowly, staring at his beanie, fingers playing with the loose strings inside of it. "I do."

"_Good,_" the singer commented, almost sounding relieved. "_'Cause I like you, too._"

If this kept going, Kendall's face would permanently be stuck smiling, like the Joker or Two-Face or some other super fucking creepy villain in a horror flick. And strangely enough, despite the fact that the blond hated grinning, hate anything happy or nice or good or any shit like that, he was okay with the perma-smirk shit.

'Cause it was James who was causing it.


	17. Static On the Line I'll Never Get Enough

_**A/N: **__Welp, was gonna post this yesterday, but that bullshit more commonly known as "Fox Video Friday" happened and if any of you guys know me at all, then you know it was about fifty levels of fucked up. So I got totally mentally jacked for the rest of the day and couldn't think to post this. And despite the fact that I'm currently suffering from a hellacious headache and am tired as fuck, I'm trying to post right now. Well, guess I'm not trying if you're reading this. I've clearly succeeded. Whatever. I'm so sleepy..._

_Anyway, um. Chapter title is from "The Hotline" by Emanuel and if you've ever heard that song (or just looked at the lyrics) then you know what's happening. So credit to them, don't sue, it just works. Usually ass covering about Twitter and iPhone. Pretty sure that's it..._

_Enjoy the update. I think I'm gonna go get more coffee. Or fall asleep on this couch. Either way..._

* * *

His mom was gonna lecture him, Kendall just knew it. It might've been the look on her face, the way she sighed when he entered the kitchen to grab some food, the blatant disappointment etched in every line of her face. Or maybe it was just part of their routine after he went to a party. He'd come home drunk, she'd give him hell, he'd ignore everything she said and partied again soon after, the cycle repeating.

But whatever. Nothing she could say or do at that point could bring him down. He'd spent an hour on the phone with James before he had to leave for soundcheck, the two of them talking about everything and nothing. Turns out they both liked horror flicks, which lead to a ten minute discussion on vampire folklore and a mutual dislike of the Twilight franchise. They discussed sports, James mentioning he was a hockey fan, Kendall saying he used to play, but when the singer asked why he quit, the teen changed the subject. And while the blond learned he had a lot in common with the brunet, he also found out areas where they disagreed, music being a big one.

Neither male discussed their family or their pasts, despite that brief mentioning of Kendall's sister.

So yeah, needless to say, the blond was in a good mood. And there was no way his mother's usual spiel was gonna bring him down. Not that it ever did, only ever resulting in annoying him. But even that emotion wasn't gonna show up. He'd chatted with the male he was into, even getting a promise of another post-concert phone call. Clearly he was too damn happy to let anything get to him in any way.

The grin stayed on his face as he grabbed the bread, deciding to just make some toast given how easy it was to make and that it wouldn't be too much for his still queasy stomach. He felt his mother's eyes on him the entire time as she got everything together for dinner, but ignored them, focusing on what he was doing, putting the bread in the four-slotted toaster.

"So," she started and he mentally cringed, knowing exactly what was coming next. "You have fun last night?"

"Not really," he admitted, turning around and leaning back against the counter, arms folded over his chest.

She was standing in profile to him, allowing him to perfectly see the way her brows raised in surprise, see the way she turned to him in slight confusion. Clearly she hadn't been expecting that, especially since his usual response was some variation of the word "yes".

One of her eyebrows quirked in suspicion as she looked at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. Spent half the time wondering why I was there and why I wasn't going home."

"So why didn't you? Just come home, I mean."

He rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure why. Okay, maybe he knew why. He wanted to get wasted, wanted to forget everything, but he couldn't exactly say that to his mom, not without having to explain exactly what was going on in his head. Which would either lead to yet another conversation regarding his father, or him having to tell her the truth about James when so far, all she believed it to be was a celeb crush. He wasn't too stoked on either option there.

"I dunno,"he admitted, refolding his arms. "Pride, I guess."

She let out a sad sigh, turning back to the chopping board, knife in hand as she cut up some carrots. "You get that from your father, too."

Kendall cringed. He hated when he was compared to that man, no matter what capacity it was in.

"Well, maybe this will be a lesson to you," she continued, not looking at him, still focusing on what she was doing. "That partying isn't always fun, that there are other things you can do to enjoy yourself, and that drinking isn't a good idea. Although the hangover should be clue enough to that."

He rolled his eyes, the tired orbs hurting with the motion.

The toaster popped up and he turned around, grabbing the peanut butter out the cabinet, then a knife and plate. He set about spreading the peanut butter on his toast, his mom still talking behind him.

"I'd ask if you learned your lesson, but it's you, so probably not."

Aaaand now another cliché statement from his mom's usual lectures. He figured it was supposed to make him feel guilty or some shit, but it never worked. Usually he just shrugged and smirked and sarcastically replied with a "guess not", earning a glare and an angry lip twist from his mother. Yeah, these discussions were pretty much scripted at this point and they always went perfectly line by line, rehearsed over and over and over. It was a routine they both had down pat, only this time, things were going off course, more of it improvised.

Because truth be told, Kendall wasn't entirely sure if he was gonna go to another party, at least not anytime soon. He hadn't exactly had all that much fun at the one the night before, not to mention he'd been pissed he missed James' call. And sure, he could always turn around and just tell the singer he was heading out with friends for the night and he'd talk to the brunet the next day, but he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be okay with that. He didn't exactly _want_ to put off or delay any phone call with the elder male, knowing that with his busy schedule, the blond should be glad to get any moment he could with the pop star, should take every chance, every available second he had. Plus he just really fucking loved talking with the guy. Not to mention how the whole concept of partying had lost its appeal, especially if any future hang outs with his friends went down like the one from the night before.

"I might be done with partying," he admitted, licking peanut butter off his left index finger, having accidentally gotten some on it.

He heard the knife drop against the wooden cutting board and turned to see his mom clutching the counter, shock on her face as she stared back at him, jaw dropped. Wow. She seemed more surprised by that confession than when he came out. Which kinda made him question how well he hid his questions about his sexuality when he was younger.

"What?" he questioned, eyebrow raised.

"You're—you're done? Like completely done? With partying?"

He shrugged, walking over and putting his knife in the dishwasher. "I dunno about _completely_ done, but probably gonna cut back on it, yeah."

His mom folded her arms over her chest, hip sticking out, eyebrow raised. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my son?"

Kendall rolled his eyes, snorting, before letting out a sarcastic "Ha ha, very funny."

"All right, the sarcasm is still there, so you're clearly still Kendall," she stated, turning back to her chopping board and picking her knife back up. "I'm just surprised you say you're gonna cut back. Although I shouldn't be, considering how you didn't go to one all summer."

He spun around, facing the counter where he'd been making his toast, walking back over to it, not wanting to discuss his mood over his vacation from school. Mostly 'cause he didn't wanna get back into that depressive mindset, not when his current emotional state was such a good one, but also because he still had no desire to tell his mom about anything that was going on with him to cause him to be so down.

So instead, he just screwed the lid back on the peanut butter and put it away.

"Kendall?"

He closed the cabinet door before turning around and facing her, seeing her once again looking at him, her hands flat on the counter, seriousness all over her face. His brow furrowed as he gave her a "yeah?", letting her know he was listening.

"I'm not sure what's going on with you, haven't known anything for years now, and I get that you aren't one to open up or talk or anything—another thing you get from your father—but." She paused, sighing. "I'm glad. I mean, you do seem upset at times and I'm not sure why and I won't ask," she stated, turning to him, waving her hands in front of her before folding her arms over her chest, hip leaning against the counter. "I just hope that whatever happened is good and that maybe it'll help you stop this bad behavior you've been indulging in over the past couple years and get back to the kid you used to be. Or the man that I hope you'd become."

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Because honestly, he wasn't sure if he _had _completely flipped a one-eighty and started being this good lil boy that his mom was hoping he'd be. He wasn't sure if he'd given up partying and drinking entirely. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on with him anymore. The only thing he _was_ sure about was that he didn't wanna go into it with his mom, didn't wanna explain exactly what it was that made partying seem unappealing, didn't wanna tell her the truth about him and James.

Because he knew that even though the singer hadn't actually done or said anything, he was still the reason why Kendall no longer felt like indulging in those kind of activities.

So instead, the blond just nodded, licking his dry lips. "Yeah. It's a good thing."

A small smile formed on his mom's face as she tilted her head to the side. "Good," she commented, stepping forward and taking hold of his upper arms. "Because that's all I want for my kids, for them to be happy and healthy and not locked up."

He couldn't help the snort of a laugh that came out, rolling his eyes once more. "Yeah, yeah." Pulling away, he turned around and took hold of his plate before grabbing a bottle of water out the fridge. Without saying another word, he left the kitchen, and his mom, heading back to his bedroom. 'Cause as good a mood as he was in, he still wasn't in the mood for being social.

* * *

It was another night of Kendall staring at the James Diamond concert updates Twitter feed, obsessively reading every new tweet, waiting for that special one that told him the show was over. Although this time, he was on his iPod and in bed.

He showered after lunch, changing into a pair of sweats and an old Emanuel t-shirt. His mom had been especially chatty during dinner, constantly wanting the lone male to join in, which he barely did. Despite his earlier confession of not finding partying fun anymore, he still wasn't all that talkative. Hell, his anti-social mood was part of the reason why he hadn't enjoyed himself the night before.

He napped for a couple hours, waking up when his alarm went off at nine, then grabbed some more food and another drink. He still felt tired as hell, so rather than fucking around on the internet—especially since he'd decided to avoid Tumblr so he didn't see any of those comments from the bitch he ran into at school—he stripped down to his boxers before getting in bed, playing Angry Birds on his iPhone for a little while before even that was too tiring. He closed out the game, pulling up Twitter and scrolling through his timeline before just going to the concert update profile.

It was around eleven when the tweet signaling the show was over popped up, Kendall's heart pounding once again. He tried to calm himself down, telling himself that James wasn't gonna immediately call, just like he did the last time. And, just like last time, he got another text stating the singer was off to shower and would call in twenty.

Which practically just shoved Kendall's mind into the gutter, especially given the fact that the pop star had admitted to wanting in the teen's pants earlier. The mention of a shower just put all kinds of images in his head, ones involving the two of them in a shower together, Kendall pinned against the wall by James, their lips locked in a heated kiss as their hips moved together in a perfect rhythm. The singer would have one hand in the teen's dirty blond hair, pulling the long strands at the back, his other hand grabbing hold of an asscheek, a finger sliding in between the two fleshy globes, playing with his entrance and-

And he really needed to stop that train of thought, considering how he was half hard already.

Only he couldn't stop picturing it, couldn't stop imagining it, the memory of how it felt to have the elder male's body pressed against his just adding to the fantasy, making it feel all the more real. And making his dick all the more hard.

Shit.

His iPhone started playing his ringtone, snapping him out of his x-rated revery—thank fuck—and he hit the "answer" button without hesitation.

"Hey, you," he stated with a smile.

"_Hey._" The singer was clearly smiling, too, even if he did sound a little tired, but Kendall figured that was to be expected after the guy had been running around onstage for the past ninety minutes or so. "_How are you?_"

"Better now that I'm talking to you." Fucking hell was that cheesy. It was true, yeah, but still cheesy as fuck.

A small laugh sounded down the line, followed by the elder male speaking a low "_me, too_", almost seeming like he was reluctant to admit it. Kendall figured he wasn't the only one who wasn't a fan of talking about feelings. So instead, he changed the subject.

"How'd the show go?"

"_Awesome._" The smile was back in his voice, and the blond felt a small grin of his own form on his face, glad that he put one on the other males.

"You on the bus heading to the next one?"

"_Yeah, in the back room as we head tooo_—" he stretched the last word out, creaking coming down the line. "_—Looks like Seattle._"

Kendall felt a pang of jealousy, wishing he could be go to Seattle himself, the home of grunge and Starbucks. "Wish I could go."

"_Honestly? Wish you could come, too._"

He blamed the fact that all the blood was in the wrong head, his dick still halfway hard and his brain still in a more x-rated mindset, meaning he was totally not responsible for what he said next. "Maybe I should fly to Seattle and you can make me come in a different way."

His eyes went wide, unable to believe that he'd actually said that, that those words had actually left his mouth. The orbs soon slid shut, hand covering them, as he withheld a groan at his idiotic behavior. Add that one to the List of Stupid Shit Kendall Keeps Saying to James.

"_Who says you need to be in Seattle in order for me to make you come?_"

His hand flew away from his face, eyes popping open, dick throbbing in his boxers. Did the elder male seriously say what the younger thought he did?

"_I mean, we're both on the phone right now, right? And we're both alone?_"

Kendall raised an eyebrow, left hand going to rest on his stomach. "Are you suggesting we have phone sex?"

"_Depends,_" the singer replied with an audible smirk. "_What're you wearing?_"

His tongue snaked out to wet his lips, smirk tugging up the corner of them, as he switched his phone from his right hand to his left, pressing it to his left ear. "Boxers. Black. Got a skull on the ass. You?"

"_A sheet. I like to sleep naked._"

"Even on the bus? With all those other dudes?"

"_I have nothing to be ashamed about when it comes to my body,_" James commented, Kendall mentally agreeing, having seen countless shirtless pics of the pop star. The blond knew for a fact that if he was built like the brunet, he'd probably be pretty damn comfortable being naked, too. "_Besides,_" the pop star continued. "_If they don't wanna see anything, they can close their eyes._"

"I _definitely_ wouldn't close my eyes," the younger male pointed out, less censored than usual, his filter completely gone.

"_So you have no issues with me sleeping naked?_"

"Hell no. My only issue is that I'm not seeing it right now." Seriously, where the hell was his unabashed blurting out of shit coming from? He was supposed to be impressing the guy, not scaring him off with his openness.

"_Good,_" the elder declared, voice still holding that smirk, but dropping in octave, taking on a more commanding tone. "_'Cause when we share a bed, you're sleeping nude, too._"

Kendall wanted to object, to tell him there was no fucking way that was happening, but honestly? He liked the sound of it, liked how James was ordering him like that, liked how the singer was making him do something that ordinarily he wouldn't be into.

The brunet continued."_I wanna feel every possible inch of your naked skin on mine, feel our bodies pressed together all over. I wanna wake up in the morning and know that it wouldn't take long to get you ready for me to take you._"

The blond groaned, right hand sliding under his comforter and cupping his aching cock through his boxers, hips bucking at even that light contact.

"_You want that, too, huh?_" the singer commented, voice slightly harsh. "_You wanna wake up with me naked, pressed against your back, my hard cock between your asscheeks._"

It wasn't a question, but he still found himself whimpering out an "mm-hmm" as he slid his hand around to the back, pressing between his cheeks, imagining _exactly_ what it would be like to wake up that way, to slowly come to consciousness with the singer hard and throbbing against him, rubbing against his sensitive hole, possibly well used and worn out from the night before.

Suddenly rubbing his entrance through his boxers wasn't enough.

"_Mm, I can imagine it. I'd rut against you, giving you a preview of what was to come, of what it'd be like in a few moments when I'm inside you._"

The younger male slipped his hands inside the back of his boxers, index finger circling his entrance, pressing against it, teasing himself. Not that he needed to. James' words were doing that for him.

"_I'd push you onto your stomach, giving me full access to your back and your ass. I'd nibble on your neck, licking, sucking, leaving a mark for the entire world to see so that everyone knows you're mine._"

Kendall groaned, pressing harder against his entrance, twisting his finger in a circle, hips bucking. The idea of James marking the blond as his property was incredibly fucking hot. And sure, the younger male always considered himself more independent, more of a leader, but to have the elder male take charge, to own him, was a huge fucking turn on.

"_God, I love hearing you moan,_" the pop star commented, sounding slightly breathless, voice tight.

"Then keep making me do it."

"_Bossy little thing, aren't we?_"

"Or I could hang up and jack off on my own."

A growl sounded down the line, Kendall smirking, knowing he'd won. "_The only person who'll be making you come from here on out is me._"

The dominating tone of James' voice had the blond groaning more, pressing against his hole, his finger breaching the tight rim of muscle.

The singer breathed out a "_fuck, Kendall_", only instead of it sounding like he was shutting down, it was a sound of arousal. The teen pictured the elder male in his bed at the back of the bus, hand under the sheet, wrapped around his hard cock and slowly stroking himself.

His finger slid in further, burning since he was dry, but he didn't care. God, he just needed something inside him, something pressing against him, something making him come. And soon.

"_I'd kiss my way down your spine,_" James continued painting the picture, one Kendall was seeing all too clearly in his mind, the brunet's voice harsher, huskier, like he'd gargled rocks or something. "_I'd position myself between your legs, spread your cheeks and lick you slow and long between 'em._"

Yeah, there was no way the blond was okay with just a finger. He withdrew his hand from his boxers and shoved his comforter back, kicking it fully off, before opening his nightstand drawer and grabbing his lube.

"_I'd lick all around your hole, tease you, suck on it._" The singer paused to groan. "_God, I bet you taste so fuckin' good._"

"Wouldn't know," the blond replied, rolling onto his side, holding his iPhone between his ear and shoulder, opening the small cylindrical bottle of lube. "No one's ever eaten me before."

"_Seriously?_"

"Yeah."

"_So I'd be your first?_" James sounded incredibly excited about that prospect, sounded like he'd really enjoy being that, doing that, being the first. But most of all, he sounded like he was one-hundred percent sure that it was gonna happen, that the two of them were gonna be in the same room, the same bed, and that James was definitely gonna be rimming Kendall.

Suddenly the lube couldn't come out the bottle fast enough.

"Yeah," the blond stated, smirk on his face. "You'd be the first."

A groan sounded down the phone line, Kendall's dick twitching at the sexual noise. God, no wonder James liked hearing the younger male's sounds. That was fucking _hot_. And he had to admit, he loved the idea of the pop star being the first to rim him, to eat him, to put his tongue to his entrance, licking, sucking, and holy shit this lube took too long to get out.

"_Fuck, Kendall,_" the brunet groaned out, breathing heavy down the line, the sounds of fabric ruffling faint in the background. "_Wish you were here. Wish this was your hand on my cock._"

The clear liquid finally came out and Kendall coated a couple fingers, practically shoving his hand down the back of his boxers, circling his entrance and rubbing lube around it. "Could say the same to you."

"_Yeah? What are you doing? Gimme details._"

'_Dirty motherfucker,_' the blond thought to himself, still circling with his fingertip, rubbing up and down his entrance. "Playing with my hole and pretending it's your tongue."

A swear left the singer, sounding like a mix between a groan and a harsh breath. "_God, I'd lick you up and down, suck your tight li'l hole, get you nice and wet for me._" A pause, during which the teen moaned. "_I'd slid a finger in, wiggling it around, stretching you._"

Kendall did exactly as James described, sliding his middle finger in, moving it around in a circle. His hips bucked at the feeling of having something inside him, it having been a while since he actually fingered himself. Jacking off? Sure, nearly daily habit in the shower considering his teenage hormones, but playing with his hole? Not so much.

"_I'd keep licking around my finger, sliding a second one in, stretching you more, scissoring them, teasing you with my tongue._"

Once again, the blond followed the brunet's imagine, doing as he had described, groaning at the sensation of being filled even more. He bit his bottom lip against the slight burn, moving his free left hand down to wrap around his cock, distracting himself. It wasn't long before he got used to it, the pain subsiding, turning into pleasure, his hips bucking more.

More groans sounded down the line before James continued. "_I'd hold you open for me, sliding my tongue in to tease you, taste you._" Another pause as a harsh whine type noise came out from the singer's throat, followed by a few pants and a gasp. "_Fuck. Then I'd move my fingers in and out and, god, I hope you're doing that right now._"

"Fuck yes," Kendall breathed out, the digits on his right hand repeatedly thrusting in his hole. "Feels so good, too," he admitted, panting down the line. His eyes were closed, allowing him to imagine that it was the brunet he was feeling fingering him, the elder male's slim fingers sliding in and out. "Need it to be you." Okay, he sounded pretty desperate and pathetic, but fuck did he not care at that point.

"_Shit, I want it to be me. So fucking bad._" The singer sounded just as far gone, and Kendall could just picture him in bed, hand fisting his cock under the sheet, head thrown back, hair mussed up as his eyes were tightly shut. His jaw would be tense, teeth working his bottom lip, the muscles in his abdomen clenching as his chest heaved up and down.

The blond's fingers started moving faster, hand tighter around his own dick, body curling up as he remained on his side.

"_I wanna feel you so bad,_" the elder male continued. "_I wanna feel what it's like inside you, wanna feel around and find your prostate, work it over until you're a writhing, moaning mess practically begging me to fuck you._"

The teen did just that, finding his prostate, practically screaming out a "Fuck, James!" as he pressed against it. His back arched, spasming beyond his control, legs shooting out straight.

"_Found it, huh?_"

A whiny "uh huh" was all the blond could manage as he curled back up, repeatedly applying pressure to that weak spot inside of himself.

The singer let out a satisfied "_mmm_" down the line. "_Keep going. Lemme hear you._"

"Fuck," he breathed out, his hand moving faster around his dick. His balls drew up tight underneath, that familiar tingle building at the base of his spine. "Shit. I'm close."

"_So am I,_" James replied, sounding even more breathless than before, his voice harsh and strained, like he was holding back. "_Fuck, I can't hold it._"

"Then don't."

"_No_," the brunet argued, practically huffing the word out, letting out another short whiny groan. "_Need to hear you first._"

"Ja-"

"_Just fucking come, Kendall!_" The words were a command that was practically growled out, a command that made the blond's hips jerk even more.

The teen focused on the dual sensations wracking his body, on the feelings they were creating inside of him. His hands sped up, moving erratically, another sign he was getting closer. Eyes still clamped shut, he imagined it was the elder male whose fingers were thrusting in and out of his hole, the elder male who had his hand wrapped around the younger's dick. He imagined the brunet pressed up against him from behind, saying those words right in his ear in person, not through a phone line. He imagined that heavy breathing wasn't coming through his iPhone, but from right there next to him as their bodies were pressed together, hips moving in perfect synchronicity.

He imagined it was the elder male's hand squeezing harder around his cock, growling in his ear to come.

With one last rub against his prostate, Kendall came hard, hips bucking, hands still working, the other male's name leaving his lips, accompanied by a few swears.

It only took a few more seconds before he heard the brunet's own orgasm hit, a musical of grunts, swears, and the blond's name coming out of his mouth and down the phone line, forming a smile on the younger male's face. Hearing his moniker being moaned out by the guy he wanted was officially his favorite sound ever.

He kept stroking himself, making sure to get every last drop out, feeling it cover the head of his dick, some of it inadvertently being wiped on the boxers he still had on. Neither he nor James said a word, just both breathed heavily, coming down from their highs.

A long moment passed before Kendall finally moved. He carefully slipped his fingers out of his hole before taking both hands out of his boxers. Which were dirty now. The boxers that was. Come to think of it, his hands weren't exactly clean either.

He'd deal with that later.

Grabbing hold of his iPhone—which he'd also clean later—he held it to his ear, listening as James' breathing calmed down and returned to normal. Another long moment later, and the singer finally spoke, one simple word that came out on a breath.

"_Wow._"

A small laugh escaped the blond, although he wasn't entirely sure why. "Yeah. Same."

A satisfied groan sounded down the line, the elder male stretching audibly. "_I'm a fucking mess now._"

"Same."

"_And I'm gonna need to shower._"

"Same."

"_And I can't fucking move._"

"Same."

James chuckled, sounding tired but amused. "_Can you say anything other than 'same'?_"

Kendall smirked, feeling like a little shit and loving it. "Same."

The brunet laughed some more, the blond joining in, the sound being a contagious one, one that soon faded out from both males around the same time. Silence stretched between them, the younger male rolling onto his back, staring at his ceiling, feeling completely satisfied in that moment. Well, okay, maybe it could've been better. _Definitely_ could've been better. But only if he actually had the singer next to him, in the bed, their legs tangled, bodies pressed together, exchanging breaths between themselves as the rest of the world was forgotten, that bubble of theirs encompassing them once more.

But he knew it wasn't gonna happen. Not any time soon anyway. So he had to take what he could get, and what he was getting was this phone call, the soft sound of the other male inhaling and exhaling, and the ability to close his eyes and just imagine that the noises weren't coming from down a phone line, but from his side on the pillow next to him. It was enough.

For the moment.

"_I should really go get cleaned off before I pass out,_" James stated low, seeming both exhausted—not a surprise considering he'd played a show and the activities they'd just participated in—but reluctant to go, a feeling Kendall could relate to.

"Yeah. Sa—me, too."

A small laughed was breathed down the line, sounding like the singer was smirking, amused at the teen's near slip. "_Talk to you tomorrow?_"

The blond's green eyes darted down to his bare torso, the fingertips of his free right hand lightly tracing up and down the faint line bisecting his torso. A small amount of fear had crept in, a slight panic that the other male would run once again, disappear for a couple days, as was his usual MO. "I hope so."

"_I will. I swe—Hold on._"

Kendall paused as he heard the singer yell at someone, the phone pulled away from his mouth, but still allowing the teen to hear every word.

"_Yes, I'm done having phone sex. What do you want?...I don't give a shit if you can't sleep. Buy earplugs! That's what they were invented for!...I don't pay you jack, you're my best friend. You do this shit 'cause you love me... 'Yeah, yeah' yourself, asshat._"

The blond withheld a laugh at the exchange, suppressing a yawn.

"_Sorry 'bout that,_" the brunet said into the phone, apparently having gotten rid of whoever was bugging him—the teen figured it was Logan judging by the "you're my best friend" part. "_My mommy Logan says I'm being too loud and should get off the phone so other people on the bus can sleep._"

The younger male's eyebrows went up, having completely forgotten that the elder was on a bus with a bunch of other guys, able to hear every word—and moan—that the brunet let out. Yeah, totally not fucking awkward at all. But it didn't seem as though James had any issues with it, the singer apparently completely at ease with everything, including having other people hearing him have phone sex. Kinda made the blond wonder if the brunet had some sort of exhibitionist kink. Wouldn't be all that big a surprise considering his career choice.

But still, he let out a small chuckle down the line, hand smearing over his forehead and eyes. "You're nuts."

"_So are you,_" the elder male pointed out with an audible smirk. "_Crazy together, right?_"

Kendall smiled, too, face hurting. "Right."

"_Talk to you tomorrow. After the show._"

"It's a date."

Another audible smile down the line. "_Night, Kendall. Sweet dreams._"

"Only when you're in them," he blurted out before he could even think. Which was seriously gonna get him in major fucking trouble with the elder male one day. If it hadn't already.

A sharp inhale came down the line before a click. Kendall pulled his iPhone away from his ear in a panic, afraid that the singer had hung up. And he had.

A sad sigh escaped past the teen's lips as he sat up, shoving his comforter back. He put his smartphone on his nightstand, turning around so his legs were hanging off the edge of his bed, feet flat on the floor. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, heel of his left palm rubbing against his forehead hard. One day he'd learn not to ruin moments. Clearly not that day, but maybe in the future.

Gotta hope for something, right?

Another sigh came out as he pushed himself to his feet before shuffling around his bed on his way to the bathroom. He wasn't in the mood for another shower, so he just grabbed a cloth and washed himself off with it, taking his boxers off and tossing them in the hamper in the process. Cleaned off, he headed back to his bedroom, putting another pair of boxers on before getting back in bed.

It had never felt colder or more empty than it did in that moment.


	18. Busted

**_A/N: _**_Sorry for the delay on this one. I just flat out didn't have time to work on it, with getting ready for Thanksgiving (which is a stupid fucking holiday by the way) and writing a oneshot for my friend's birthday and all this shit, not to mention needing time to recover from "Breaking Dawn Part II" because OH MY FUCKING GOD! *spazzy arm flail*...yeah, it was a struggle to find time to do this. And in case you missed my note on Tumblr or LiveJournal, there's more than likely gonna be long delays between the next couple chapters, since I'm gonna be busy with holiday stuff and making everyone's Christmas presents (including more oneshots for friends and stuffed animals for sisters...harsh sigh). Finding time to write will more than likely be an issue, but I'm gonna try. But anyway, don't be surprised if it takes a while for new chapters to be posted between now and Christmas._

_Anyhoo, usual ass covering about Twitter and Skype (IT'S SKYPE NATH!). Shout out to MonkeesDoctorWho1987 for giving me the idea about Mama K. Super big giant shout out to MeHeartsKendall over on Tumblr for the awesome fanart :D LOVE it. Oh, and credit to my dad over the plugs/sockets line._

_Oh! And a quick note, leaving a review that is just "UPDATE" will only result in pissing me off and actually delaying the update, especially when I'm in a pissy mood like I was when I saw that. So please don't do it. Kinda rude._

_But other than that, enjoy the update!_

* * *

It was the best night's sleep Kendall had gotten in months.

Which meant waking up sucked. For several reasons. The first one obviously being the fact that he had gotten some much needed shut eye, so for it to end by the annoying blaring of his All That Remains alarm tone, signalling he needed to get up and ready for work, was a major fucking bummer. Second was the realization that he did, in fact, have to go to work that day, always a deep fucking joy. Third, waking up meant the end of his x-rated dream, one that had pretty much picked up from where James' story telling had left off. Fourth, he'd rolled over onto his hard-on, never enjoyable no matter the time of day nor the circumstances surrounding his current situation. And finally, his ass admittedly kinda stung a li'l.

Okay, despite the pain and discomfort, he could deal with his hole burning a bit. Sure it sucked, but it'd hurt worse before. Plus, if anything, it was proof that the night before had actually happened, that he'd really had phone sex with James.

Not that the memories of the singer's groans and pants in his ear, memories that were etched into his brain like a cranial tattoo, weren't proof enough, but the physical reminder was nice.

With a heavy sigh, he shoved back his comforter before getting out of bed. Feet planted firmly on the floor, he raised his arms up, stretching towards the sky. He heard his joints pop, felt his muscles strain, all of them tense and a little sore from being in the same position for so long. Feeling relieved, he dropped his arms to his sides, before lifting his right one and shoving his bangs back from his face before rubbing the back of his neck, rolling his head around. His neck was a little sore, too, from the awkward position he'd held it in, trying to keep his phone up to his ear as his hands were otherwise occupied. Whatever. Fucking worth it.

Smile on his face, he headed to the bathroom, using the facilities, feeling even better once the pressure in his bladder was gone. Washing and drying his hands, he gave a quick glance in the mirror, deciding to forgo shaving for the third day in a row, mostly out of a lack of giving a fuck, but also partially out of laziness. Li'l scruff never hurt anyone. Wasn't like he was gonna turn into Grizzly Adams or some shit.

Leaving the bathroom, he headed over to his nightstand, checking his iPhone for any texts or voicemails, seeing nada. He shrugged it off, deciding it wasn't that big a deal. James was a musician on the road and a couple hours behind him time wise, meaning it was even earlier where the brunet was at. There was no fucking way he was up yet, so no way he could text or call the blond. Which was no biggie really, considering how their previous phone call went. Really, Kendall had nothing to complain about.

Which was when he remembered.

He was hung up on.

Again.

Son of a motherfucking, cocksucking bitch!

Kendall put his iPhone back down before covering his face with his hands, head tilted back, letting out a loud groan that turned into a frustrated growl. He should be used to this. He really, truly should be. Two steps forward, one step back. It was pretty much the dance he was doing with James. Not that the blond was into anything other than slam-dancing and moshing—and the occasional mattress mambo—which probably just made this entire thing all the more annoying.

Fucking terrific.

Dropping his hands, he put them on his hips, feeling his bare skin beneath his calloused fingers, the rim of his boxers just below his pinkies. He knew he should get dressed, knew he shouldn't be standing around in his underwear, especially when the other members of the household were both female, but he didn't move. He just continued to stand there, glaring at his iPhone, as though it was all the device's fault the blond was constantly hung up on by the brunet.

And he knew that wasn't it, knew that some inanimate object wasn't to blame. And it wasn't his cell service either, considering he would still have a signal, the bars on the screen attesting to that fact. No, it was all James, all the pop douche's fault, all that dick-biting bastard's doing.

His brow scrunched up at that. "Dick-biting bastard"? He was running outta insults, clearly. That one was just weird.

Shaking his head, he turned and headed to his closet, taking a black thermal off its hanger and tossing it on his bed before grabbing a random pair of jeans and putting them on. He didn't have time to stand around and contemplate fuckheaded behavior, didn't have time to figure out why he was constantly being disconnected by the guy he was talking to, why he had a habit of saying the wrong thing that caused the wrong reaction in someone he wanted to keep chatting with. Kendall had other shit to deal with, like making sure he kept his job.

Deep. Fucking. Joy.

Another harsh sigh left his lips as he pulled up his jeans, making sure his boxers stayed flat and didn't bunch up. And as he pulled his zipper up, the sounds of Eighteen Visions filled his room.

His head snapped to his nightstand where his iPhone sat, the screen lit up due to the incoming call. Without hesitation, he ran over, yanking the device off the piece of furniture, nearly ripping the charger cord out. His heart was pounding in his chest in excitement, the hope that James was calling almost overwhelming, and he felt his hands shaking as he hit the answer button without bothering to check the call ID.

"Hello?"

"_Heya, buddy!_"

"Oh." Disappointment washed over the blond at the sound of Carlos' voice through his phone line, his face sinking, shoulders slumping. "It's just you," he muttered out as his head tilted down, eyes staring at his gray carpet.

"_Ouch. 'Just' me? Kinda hurt here, Kendall. Ya cut me deep._"

The blond rolled his eyes as he headed over to his bureau, knowing full well that he hadn't done that, especially when the Latino's tone of voice didn't convey any form of hurt. "Yeah, yeah. Sure you are."

"_I am, man! I'm gonna need years of intensive therapy to get over the scars you just left on my soul._"

"I'll agree with the you needing therapy part, but not 'cause of what I've done," Kendall commented, opening a drawer and pulling out a black wifebeater, shaking it to unfold it.

"_Yeah, probably,_" the Latino replied, tone serious, before he immediately bounced back to the happy go lucky guy he usually was. "_So what are you doing today?_"

"Work," the blond replied with a snort, managing to get the tank over his head and his arms in the proper holes, pulling it down so his torso was covered.

"_Boo!_"

"My feelings exactly." He slid the drawer shut before turning and heading over to his bed, picking up the thermal he had tossed on it earlier.

"_Was gonna see if you wanted to hang or something._" Hope was fully evident in Carlos' low voice, the shorter male clearly wanting to do something with his best friend that day. Only it couldn't happen.

Kendall pulled his iPhone away from his ear as he slipped his thermal over his head, taking an opportunity to put his shirt on, as well as hide his groan. He wasn't in a social mood—fucking shocker there—and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a happy, bouncy best friend who had a knack for shoving his nose in the blond's business. But if he knew his best friend as well as he thought he did, then chances were that if Kendall said 'no' to hanging out, the Latino's face would turn into that fucking puppy dog one, one that was evident even through the phone line, one that the blond was already picturing and caving into.

Life would be so much easier without people in it.

Phone still pulled away, he let out a sigh, shoving his free arm through his sleeve, before moving his smartphone to his other hand, slipping that arm into the shirt as well. The thermal fully on, he put his iPhone back to his ear, left hand shoving itself through his messy hair. "Maybe after my shift."

"_Sweet!_" The bubbliness was back in Carlos' voice and Kendall wasn't sure how he felt about it in all honesty. It wasn't that he wanted his best friend to be upset; he just wanted to not give a fuck about anyone else's feelings or his impact on them. He wanted to not care about anyone or anything. He wanted to be left the fuck alone, to not need anyone.

He wanted to stop being so fucking depressed all the goddamn time, wanted his mood to not be fucked with by some guy, wanted to get over everything.

But he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to be happy either. It was a foreign concept to him at that point, something he hadn't genuinely felt in a long fucking time, at least not for a period of time lasting longer than few minutes.

He mentally snorted, knowing it was never gonna happen. Not with the way shit seemed to be going for him.

Especially not here lately.

He told Carlos he had to finish getting ready for work, letting the shorter male know he'd text when he was finished with his shift. Which the Latino made him promise to do about five times. And after he _finally_ got off the phone with his best friend, Kendall realized he did the same thing with James and the whole "I promise to call you tomorrow" thing. He wondered if he was as annoying as Carlos was with that shit, then he wondered if James actually _would_ call, considering how their last conversation ended with yet another hang up.

Letting out another harsh sigh, he set about finishing getting dressed. First was the socks, followed by his boots, then his usual gray beanie on top of his head. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket, clipping the chains to one of the belt loops at the front of his jeans, before grabbing his iPhone and sliding it in his front pocket. Lastly he grabbed his keys and work apron, then headed downstairs to grab some food.

He made himself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, sitting at the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the dining room as he ate. His mind started wandering, drifting to that place he didn't want it to go to. He found himself wondering what James had for breakfast, if he ate cereal, too, and if so, what kind. He wondered what the brunet took in his coffee, if he even drank coffee—were there actually people who didn't drink it? He wondered if the singer was a morning person or preferred to sleep in late. He wondered why he was torturing himself with such thoughts.

His mom walked in when Kendall was finished eating, finding him staring down at his bowl of milk, spoon moving the last few corn flakes around the white liquid. She stopped halfway into the room, curious and confused look on her face as she watched her son space out, raising one of her eyebrows in question. Fully turning to him, she folded her arms over her chest, hip sticking out.

"Sweetie?"

Kendall's head snapped up, slightly spooked at the sudden presence of a voice, believing he was alone. He quickly recovered, dropping his spoon, the metal clinking against the ceramic bowl. "Yeah. Fine."

The eyebrow remained up. "Really?" she questioned, walking over to the other side of the breakfast bar. "'Cause I didn't ask how you are." Point made, she put her hands on the counter, staring her son straight in the eyes.

'_Smooth, dumbass. Real smooth._'

His brain was always so great with the mental pick me ups and the boosts to his self-esteem. Just awesome.

Having no other response to give, he simply shrugged as he stood up, the stool he'd been sitting on scraping against the wooden floor as he knocked it with the back of his legs. Grabbing his dishes, he walked around the end of the counter, entering the main part of the kitchen.

His mom turned around, leaning back against the bar, hands gripping the edge as she watched him. "That's what I thought."

Kendall said nothing as he poured his leftover milk down the sink before putting all his dishes in the washer, closing it up. A quick glance at the clock on the microwave told him he still had a few minutes to spare before he had to leave for work. Meaning he had a few more minutes for his mom to try and get him to be social, to try and get him to actually talk about what was bothering him.

He mentally snorted. '_Good fucking luck with that one._'

"So," she started, Kendall withholding a groan as he turned to her. "Who were you on the phone with last night?"

Panic caused his stomach to clench and his blood to freeze, his entire body tensing up. He tried to think back to what exactly he'd said, about how he acted, the noises he made. Fuck, ninety-percent of it had been moans, clearly giving away to what he'd been up to. And while he'd been freaked out about people on James' bus overhearing the singer's side of the conversation, he'd clearly totally forgotten about folks in his own place eavesdropping on what he was saying.

Fucking awesome.

He swallowed hard, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to think up a good answer, something that wouldn't freak his mom out or give away too much of what was going on in his life, nor admit to the fact that he was actually having phone sex. If his mom even overheard that part. She hadn't exactly told him what she'd listened in on, so there was a chance she heard the beginning of the convo or the end when they were saying their goodnights. No need to panic or freak out or think the worst about it.

Only his brain, once again, was being an uncooperative jackass and forcing him to focus on the negative anyway.

"Look," his mom started after a long silent moment, during which Kendall had stood there frozen and unable to react. "If it's a guy that's been making you happy these past couple months, then I'm glad. You deserve someone good, a nice guy, one who'll make you see that not all men are bad. Especially after-"

"Mom!" That time he did manage to locate his tongue, his hands flying up, held out towards her in a physical command to stop talking. He was in a shitty enough place emotionally and mentally. He didn't need to be further dragged down by mentions of...yeah, no. Not going there.

She held her hands up in innocence. "Okay, we won't go there," she stated, before letting out a sigh. She never had liked that Kendall kept everything in, that he never talked about what had happened, how he always said that he was fine and not bothered by anything, when he clearly was. But that was her deal. He didn't give a shit about how she felt or how upset she may or may not have been over his closed-off-ness.

"Point is," she continued, folding her arms over her chest once again. "I just hope this guy treats you right and makes you happy and isn't just using you." She gave him a pointed look, one which resulted in an eye roll from the blond male.

"I'm fine," he told her, walking to the breakfast bar to retrieve his apron from where he'd left it. "I can handle it."

"You sure?"

He paused, his hand on the burgundy fabric, eyes staring straight ahead to the French doors on the opposite side of the dining area. Only instead of seeing the brick patio, the needing to be trimmed grass, or the leaves that were slowly beginning to change color, he saw nothing. Just a big, black empty space. Well, not _empty_ empty, since it was filled with insecurities, doubt, and his ol' pal Abandonment Issues. Whoopty fucking doo, what a fun fucking party that sounded like.

His mom took his non-response as an answer, turning to him, hand on his upper arm as she looked him square in the eye. "Just. Be careful, okay, sweetie? And make sure you use protection."

Kendall nearly blurted out how "that would require us to be in the same state", but caught himself just in time. That statement would clearly raise a whole lotta questions that he still didn't wanna fucking answer. He figured he probably never would.

So instead, he just nodded, forcing a small twist of the lips in a non-verbal reply as he looked down at her. Sliding his apron off the counter, he turned away and headed out the kitchen on his way to the front door. He needed a distraction, needed something to keep his mind occupied and busy and away from anything remotely dealing with certain brunet pop stars or his mom's insistence of butting into his shit.

Maybe working that day wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

* * *

Kendall figured he should be used to the squeals by now. Granted this time they were pretty much in surround sound. And one of those people who was doing the squealing was a dude.

But still. Point remained that it should be something he was used to at that point in his life.

Only he wasn't.

He was still rubbing his forehead—thank fuck his hangover was gone, 'cause that would just make shit a million times worse—after having winced at the noises his friends made, all because of one simple phrase.

"Yeah, so, James called Friday night."

Which lead to a million rambled questions.

"When?!"

"Why didn't you tell us?!"

"What happened?!"

"Did you guys talk?!"

"Did he explain himself?!"

"Are you guys gonna shut the fuck up so I can talk?"

Okay, the last one was obviously from himself, but a million inquiries nonetheless.

So he sat on his chair, parallel to his desk, legs stretched out in front of him and his arms folded over his chest. Carlos sat on the end of the bed on the blond's left, Camille joining them via Skype through the taller male's laptop as it sat on his desk on his right. He told them about how James had left a voicemail, telling the teen to forget the singer called, only to have the younger male call anyway while he was totally wasted. He told them about the phone call the next day, the pop star confessing that he was fucked up and that was the only explanation he could give, the two of them then talking for an hour or so about their likes and dislikes. He told them about the promise of a second phone call later that night, only to stop dead, staring straight ahead at his Deftones poster, eyes wide. Yeah, he was keeping that one to himself.

But, of course, his friends were nosy ass motherfuckers and wanted to know every last detail about everything, especially when it concerned their favorite singer.

Carlos leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head slightly turned, a "go on then, keep talking" expression on his face. Camille had moved closer to her laptop screen, the same expectant look on her own her face as she looked at the blond male through the webcam.

"_Well?_" she questioned, hands slightly held out. "_What happened? Did he not call?_"

"No," he answered, willing to admit at least that much as he rubbed the back of his neck, shifting slightly in his seat. "He called."

Another long pause, his two friends exchanging "what the fuck?" looks before staring back at him.

"So what's the problem?" Carlos asked, clueless as ever.

"_Did you guys not talk?_" the lone female added her own inquiry. "_Did you get in a fight?_"

"No, not that either," the blond replied, dropping his hand to his lap where he started fiddling with his fingers, moving so he was slightly tilted, most of his weight on his left asscheek.

"_So you _did_ talk?_" the brunette double-checked, the tall male nodding as he stared down at his hands.

His Latino friend still seemed lost, clearly confused as to how anything was a problem or how something could be wrong. Sweet sweet Carlos. Kendall wished he could be that naïve and happy-go-lucky.

"Soooo," Carlos stretched the word out, lips pursed together in a weird kissy face. "What. Did. You guys. Talk about?" The question came out in spurts, the shorter male clearly guessing that the topic of conversation was what the issue was, but not seeming entirely sure how to ask. Or if he even _should_ ask.

Kendall figured asking was fine, no biggie. Wasn't like his best friend wasn't constantly questioning him about everything and anything. And sure, over the years the shorter teen had figured out what was okay to talk about and what he shouldn't dare even hint at for fear of getting slammed into a wall without safety gear on, but the inquiries still remained, Carlos still shoving his tan face into Kendall's business.

And, okay, the blond could admit that asking what he talked about with the guy he was into was an innocent question, one that was pretty much fair game. 'Cause as clueless as the dark-haired boy was, he obviously had no fucking idea that the answer wasn't exactly innocent itself, nor was it something the taller teen was inclined to state out loud.

But he knew a non-response wouldn't work on his best friend as it had with his mom, wouldn't satiate the shorter male at all. And he knew a change of subject in this situation wouldn't work, not with Camille sitting there awaiting his answer, too.

So he just shrugged, still staring down at his hands in his lap. "Stuff."

"What kinda stuff?"

Of fucking course.

Kendall groaned, eyes closing, head slightly tilting back, just wishing he didn't have such a nosy, curious, pushy best friend. "Carlos-"

"Whoa!" the aforementioned male interrupted, shock on his face, mouth hanging open as his jaw dropped. Shit. The blond realized a little too late that he'd called the other male by his actual name, a dead giveaway that something was fucking serious.

A gasp came from the laptop, followed by an amused giggle. "_Are you blushing?_"

Oh, fuck, it must've been really fucking bad if Camille could see it even through a pixelized image projected through a phone line and bouncing off satellites or some shit like that.

But he played it cool, turning to the screen with an eyebrow raised, face full of "are you fucking serious?" "I don't blush." He was lying his ass off, his poker face clearly in place, despite the fire he felt in his cheeks and ears and the way he was shuffling around in his seat again. Which had nothing to do with his embarrassment and more to do with the fact that his hole still kinda hurt. He clearly needed to not go that long without stretching it ever again.

"_Oh my god!_" the lone female's voice was a mix of disbelief, shock, and total unabashed amusement, causing the blond to clench his teeth and grit his jaw, eyes dropping down to his lap again. "_You totally_ are_ blushing!_" Another small laugh as she leaned forward, arms folded on her desk, small smirk on her face. She was completely and totally interested in all the details, determined to get every last juicy note.

Fucking great.

"_How dirty was it?_" She didn't even need to be told what exactly had happened, didn't need Kendall to admit to it. She'd figured it out and determined that the teen had most definitely had phone sex with the pop star, no confirmation needed.

Also fucking great.

"Is that why you keep moving around?" Carlos questioned, pointing to Kendall's pelvis as the blond once again shuffled in his seat, freezing his movements as he was busted trying to shift his weight to his right cheek.

"_Kendall, are you a bottom?_" The question was posed as innocently as "Kendall, are you a Scorpio?" or "Kendall, are you allergic to shellfish?", made slightly more disturbing by the fact that it was asked by a straight female. Should she know about this shit? Okay, maybe it was basic biology, something not all that hard to figure out. Someone had to shoot the puck and someone had to be the goal, so to speak. But still. She shouldn't be asking him which position he played, and he sure as fuck wasn't gonna be informing her.

Returning to his shifting, finally moving onto his right asscheek, Kendall spoke. "I am _not_ discussing the details of my sex life _or_ my sexual preferences."

Carlos nodded, lips slightly turned down and reminded the blond of a monkey. "Definitely a bottom."

"_Mmm, yeah,_" Camille agreed, nodding right along with him, putting a finger on her chin thoughtfully. "_I don't really see James bottoming._"

"Guys!" the tall male interrupted, hands out to the sides, looking back and forth between his two friends as embarrassment came flooding back, coloring his cheeks once again. It wasn't that he was ashamed of sex or of being sexually active. Fuck no! He fucking _loved_ it, loved feeling someone fill him up, loved having someone pounding into him, loved making someone come inside of him—well, inside a condom that was being used but the point remained. He had no issues with sex or discussing it in general. He just didn't wanna talk about his own sex life or give out any details of what happened between him and James. Was bad enough they knew about the dressing room make out. Now they knew about the phone sex. But they definitely weren't getting fucking details about it.

"Dude," Carlos started, face solemn, voice serious, as he reached out and put a hand on his best friend's shoulders. Which was clue number one shit was about to get weird. "There's nothing wrong with being a bottom. Someone's gotta pitch, someone's gotta catch, and I just happen to be great on my knees."

"Oh god," Kendall groan, head lolling back once more as he pretended he didn't just hear what the other male had said.

"Guess that's another reason why we won't work. Can't have two bottoms. Too many plugs, not enough sockets."

The blond raised his head and looked at his friend, raising a hand to him. "Stop talking."

The Latino just smirked as he removed his hand, Camille giggling through the laptop. Kendall turned away from Carlos, facing straight forward once more, shaking his head as he wondered how the fuck he got involved with these people and how the hell he could get rid of them.

'_Wait long enough and they'll leave on their own._'

Ah yes. His positive brain was being positive once again. Lovely.

The sounds of Eighteen Visions filled the room, causing everyone else to get quiet, heads snapping to the noise. Kendall's iPhone sat on the desk to the right of the laptop, screen lit up, alerting all to the fact that someone was calling.

That _James_ was calling.

"Aren't you gonna answer that?" Carlos questioned, pointing to the smart phone, straightening his body up from its slumping position in an attempt to see the screen and figure out who was calling.

"Nope," Kendall replied, popping the 'P' with his lips before lifting his right hand, chewing on the side of his thumbnail.

"_Who is it?_"

"James."

"Answer it!" It came in surround sound, both Camille and Carlos yelling the command at the exact same moment.

"_We swear we'll be quiet and just let you talk,_" the brunette vowed, the dark-haired male nodding in agreement, face serious once again.

"Okay, even if you guys _do_ manage to keep your mouths shut—" the blond gave a pointed look to the Latino, who just smiled widely in innocence "—I'm not answering."

His friends wore matching looks of confusion. "_You _sure_ you and James didn't fight?_"

"I'm sure," he replied, looking at the hangnail he'd been gnawing on before chewing on it again.

"_Theeen why won't you answer?_"

Kendall dropped his hand to his lap once more, left one going up and rubbing the back of his neck. "'Cause," he started then paused before dropping his hand. "He hung up on me last night."

"Why?"

"'Cause he's a douchefuck dickshit."

"That's a new one."

The blond just shrugged.

"_What exactly did you say right before he hung up?_" Camille asked, leaning forward once again, face serious. The blond male felt like he was dealing with a therapist or a detective, someone determined to get to the root of the issue and solve this mystery. Which, he had to admit, would be pretty fucking awesome.

But that would require Kendall to actually _talk_, a major flaw in that plan. He knew in order for the case to be solved, there had to be clues, and there wouldn't be any clues if he didn't open up and tell them what happened. And didn't that just suck a couple big hairy donkey balls?

A harsh sigh left him, fingers fiddling with themselves on his lap as he watched them once again. "We were saying goodnight," he started before pausing, voice low. "And he said 'sweet dreams' and I told him 'only if you're in them' and he hu—"

More. Fucking. Squeals.

It was like being in a fucking farm full of baby pigs or some shit, just constant, high pitched noises of what he figured was joy or excitement. He had no clue really. He was never really one for the squeal.

"Yeah, he hung up," he finally completed his sentence once the aggravating sounds had subsided.

"Why'd he hang up?" Carlos wondered out loud, head slightly tilted, adding to the whole puppy dog thing he had going.

"'Cause he's a douchefu—"

"Yeah, yeah," the Latino interrupted again, waving his hand up and down in dismissal, turning his head away and looking at the laptop screen.

"_Maybe he's calling to apologize,_" Camille threw the theory out, gaining the attention of the blond male, shrugging on the screen.

Kendall snorted, eyes rolling and landing on the smartphone sitting silently on the desk next to his laptop, text bubble alerting him to a missed call on display. "Yeah fuckin' right," he stated out loud. "Apologizing isn't exactly something James does."

"Maybe this time he is," the other male replied optimistically, smile bright, voice bubbly. "People can change."

The statement earned the dark-haired male a "You can't be fucking serious" look out the corner of the dirty blond haired one's eyes. Okay, he couldn't argue that people did, in fact, change. He was fucking exhibit A for the prosecution. But the way the pop star acted, his behavior and his patterns up until that point made Kendall think that James wasn't the type to change, that he was stuck in his ways, stubborn and hardheaded.

Which totally didn't sound familiar.

Carlos and Camille locked eyes, wordlessly exchanging messages, before they both turned back to Kendall.

"_Yeah, I'm gonna call it a night. Got a lotta lines to memorize for this one act play next week._"

Bull. Shit.

Yeah, the one act play wasn't a lie, but her sudden departure to go study them was. She'd once bragged about how she could have an entire script memorized—as in _everyone's_ parts—within an hour of receiving it. So needing a whole week to prepare for something that small was such shit he could smell it two time zones away.

"Yeah, I got a lotta homework to do, too," Carlos added to the pile of crap.

Kendall looked back and forth between the two of them, one eyebrow raised, arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. He wasn't buying a single fucking thing of what they were selling. But he wasn't in the mood to argue, wasn't about to ask them to stay. Partially 'cause that wasn't exactly how he acted, meaning it would raise suspicions, but mostly 'cause he kinda wanted them to leave, as douchebaggy as that sounded. He enjoyed being alone, being in solitude, of not having to put up this "everything is peachy keen, jelly bean" facade and pretend like everything in his world was perfect, when really he just wanted to crawl in bed and fucking forget everything.

He said his goodbyes to his two friends, something that was delayed by Camille's remembrance

that she and Kendall needed to exchange phone numbers so they could text, rather than be limited to the 140 characters or less of tweets and/or Dms on Twitter. After that was done, she signed off, waving her sayonaras to Carlos, who gave her and Kendall both an adios before walking out the bedroom and the Knight house.

Leaving Kendall alone.

He inhaled deeply, puffing up his cheeks before slowly blowing the air out harshly. Slumping down, he put his hands on top of his head, fingers tangled, staring straight ahead once more, still not seeing what was actually there. He knew he was spacing out, but he'd be damned if he knew what the fuck he was talking about.

Moving his hands, he smeared one over his face, muffling a groan. His eyes turned to the side, coming across his iPhone, seeing he now had a voicemail. He didn't even need to check it to know who it was from, considering that was the only person who'd called, besides Carlos that morning but it clearly hadn't been the Latino who left the message. Which left only one suspect.

Kendall wasn't in the mood to listen to whatever bullshit James wanted to spout at him, but he was too curious to just let the message eat up memory in his smart phone. Grabbing the device, he dialed up his voicemail, following the female robot as she instructed him on how to get the message, crossing his eyes sarcastically as he stuck his tongue out and mimicked her. Finally, the actual fucking message he wanted to hear—kinda—played.

"_Hey, Kendall. It's me. Um. I guess you're busy or whatever. Was hoping we could talk. Uh._" A pause hit, the sound of a harsh exhale, the air blowing down the line. "_Yeah, uh. I feel bad about last night. Not the phone sex part, that was—"_ Another pause as he let out a satisfied laugh. "—_yeah, that was awesome. Greatest phone conversation of my life._" He cleared his throat, his tone changing from a happy, blissful one to a serious, somber one. Meaning there was no good about to come from this. "_I meant the part where I hung up. Which is pretty much like when I just left the room that one time. Also fucked up. So uh..._" Another throat clearing. "_Yeah, I feel bad about it. That whole I'm fucked up thing again. And..._" Another harsh sigh. "_Yeah, I'm sorry. Hopefully I'll talk to you again. Soon. Um. Right. Bye._"

Kendall saved the message. It was stupid and pointless and there was absolutely no reason to keep it. But he did.

He was a fucking idiot.

Bringing up his contacts, he called James back, automatically getting voicemail. His eyes went to the clock in the corner of his laptop, figuring the pop star was on stage at that moment.

'_Great timing._'

'_No one asked you._'

A beep sounded down the line, signaling Kendall it was time to utter whatever bullshit would come out his mouth that he'd be okay with the singer hearing.

Oh fuck, he had nothing.

He really should practice or write some lines or some shit before doing this.

"Uh hey," he started, totally smooth and awesome, hand working the back of his neck. "Sorry I missed your call, I was hanging with friends." And totally ignoring the pop star, but that didn't need to be said. "And you're probably singing something right now and making fangirls scream as I'm leaving this message, but just know that you can call me back whenever you want to, no matter what time. I don't care if it's past three am my time. You wanna talk, just dial me, and I swear I'll answer, no matter what." He dropped his hand, slapping it against his denim covered thigh before sliding it up into his pocket. "Yeah, so just call. Bye."

He ended the call, staring down at his background, at James' hand covering his own. He had a feeling he wouldn't be getting a call that night.


	19. Possibly Life-Changin Calls Changin Nada

_**A/N:**__ Fried. Brain. My. God._

_First of all, new puppy. Holy shit is she a lotta work! Tiny terror... Next, David. Motherfucking. Wright. Like, seriously, he just needs to not. With his face and the scruff and the blue jersey and the dimples and the accent and just... everything. God, he's gorgeous! I just... UNF!_

_Anyway, this chapter actually wasn't in the original plan but it needed to be written in order to show their actual phone conversation after the voicemails and then to set up for later stuff. Probably why it was such a pain in the ass to write... But I wrote the first part first, got stuck on it, started working on the second part separately, so if things are weird or repeating or something, that's why. And my bad. Also forgive any missed typos. I was puppy sitting while proofreading, meaning I kept getting interrupted to clean up pee spots, stop her from chewing, and trying to calm her down when she went after our other dog. Again, my bad._

_Lyrics in this are from "Dear God" by Avenged Sevenfold, credit to them, they are awesome. Don't sue me, Twitter, over name dropping you. Again. And whatever ass-covering needs to be done that I forgot about._

_I'm off to cry over how it's not baseball season yet. Enjoy the update!_

* * *

James didn't call that night.

Or the next day.

Or even the day after that.

It was Thursday by the time he actually dialed up Kendall. And it just happened to be while the blond was fucking working.

Kendall got the voicemail during his dinner break, nothing more than some bullshit about having been busy and unable to call until that moment. The blond knew it was a lie, recalling how the pop star told him that shit gets boring on the road, that he spends a lotta time waiting around backstage. Even if he had a million and one things to do that day, he could still find five minutes to call-or at least fucking text-and let the younger male know he got the message. But that was James for ya, unpredictable and nonsensical.

Staring down at his iPhone, Kendall let out a harsh sigh, seriously debating if he should call back. He'd gotten over the whole being hung up on, his anger shifting towards the amount of time it took the other male to call back or even acknowledge that Kendall had left him a voicemail. He'd told himself he was no longer gonna be the pathetic one, the loser who sat around waiting for the guy to call, doubting himself and feeling bad and/or depressed when his phone never rang with that number displayed. 'Course that meant it happened anyway, but that was beside the point. He was consciously making an effort to not do that, be that, trying to catch himself whenever self-deprecating thoughts entered his brain, paranoid or upsetting beliefs turning him back into that zombie he'd once been several times over the past few years-even more so frequently-trying to make sure he remained as an actual human.

Kind of an asshole of a human, but one nonetheless.

He sat down in the break room, glad he was alone, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward and continued to just stare at his phone, the screen now black. He kinda had the perfect out. He could just not call back or text or whatever. He highly doubted James would continue calling or anything, wouldn't be surprised if the pop star didn't pursue him, since most guys tended not to do that and so far, that was James' MO. But even if the singer _did_ start up with the non-stop calls or texts, Kendall could just keep ignoring them or have the number blocked. There was nothing or no one saying he _had_ to reply. And once the calls stopped-whether by James or by call blocking-the blond could do what he'd wanted for a long fucking time: try to get over the brunet.

He mentally snorted, both his head and heart agreeing that he was seriously fucking kidding himself.

With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and dialed James' number, leaning back in his seat, hand over his eyes, head resting against the back of his chair. He had a brief fleeting thought about how he once again called without practicing what he wanted to say, assuming he'd get the other male's messaging system, only to decide that if there was no answer, he was just gonna hang up.

"_Hello?_"

Shit.

Kendall lifted his head, remaining in his slouched position, hand going to the back of his neck. "Heeeey."

A relieved sigh came down the line, like the singer was glad the teen had called, like he was afraid it wasn't gonna happen. "_Kendall._" The blond totally didn't like how the brunet sounded when saying his name, totally didn't think the other male was pleased and alleviated and happy to be able to say the younger male's name at all. Nope. "_Hey. Guess you got my message._"

"Yup." He popped his lips on the "p", dropping his hand to his lap, getting his voice flat and free of any emotions. He wasn't about to admit that he was feeling just as glad or relieved or pleased at the presence of the other male's voice down his phone line.

The tone of his voice and attitude were clearly picked up on, James' own demeanor changing. "_Uh, look, sorry it took so long to call back. I've just been real busy and didn't have time._"

"Uh huh," Kendall replied, eyes cast downward as he watched the fingers of his right hand play with the bottom edge of his apron. "By the way, I have a bridge in Brooklyn. Maybe you could check it out sometime. Been thinking of selling it and I'm sure with your big pop star money, you can afford it."

There was a brief pause before the singer spoke. "_Still regretting telling you to keep it real with me._"

A short, humorless laugh left the blond as he released his apron, folding his arm over his torso. "Well, like I told you before, this is me. You want someone to constantly kiss your ass and tell you how fucking amazing you are all the time or to do that cliche 'how high' when you say 'jump' bullshit, you've called the wrong guy. I'm done doing shit to please others and acting like something I'm not, doing something I hate because I think it'll make someone else happy. And if you don't like it, now's your chance to leave."

Another pause, this one longer, James taking in what Kendall had said and seemingly thinking it over. The blond swallowed hard, fingers gripping the side of his apron as they folded up into a fist, his stomach clenching, his muscles going tense, his breathing forced as his lungs had stopped. This was it. This could be the very moment where the brunet decided he'd had enough, that it's not worth it, that he wanted out of... well, out of whatever the fuck was going on between them. It would be so easy for the pop star to turn around and tell the teen "You're right, this isn't what I want. I'm done" before hanging up and never calling again. The guy would have anyone he desired, male or female, countless fangirls waiting in the wings to kiss his ass or suck his dick or do whatever the singer wanted them to do. And they'd do it without question, without attitude, without any of the shit Kendall was giving him.

James really did deserve better than him.

The singer's voice was low as he finally spoke, once again seeming reluctant to admit what it was that he was saying. "_I don't wanna leave._" His voice got stronger as he said the next part of his reply. "_And I don't want you to kiss my ass or tell me how amazing I already know I am-_" Kendall rolled his eyes. "_-or any of that other shit. I just._" He paused, letting out a harsh sigh, followed by a muttered swear, before he continued in that quiet volume once more. "_I just want you._"

Kendall felt his heart clench in his chest, his skin tingling at the other male's words. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, right hand hanging between his legs, speaking low as he replied. "You have me."

A small laugh came down the phone line. "_That might be scarier than not having you at all._"

The blond swallowed hard, knowing exactly what the other male was saying. The only thing worse than not having something, was losing it.

Silence descended over the twosome, the weight and enormity of the moment crashing down on them both. What the brunet had said—regardless of how reluctantly he had said it—was a major fucking thing, a confession of sorts, something that could actually explain the elder's habit of running away.

Fear.

Although what exactly that fear was, Kendall wasn't sure. He knew what he himself was afraid of, but as for the brunet? It could've been anything. All the blond knew was that it involved actually _being with_ the teen, alluding to countless possibilities as to what the issue was. And while the younger male was fucking dying to get to the truth, to figure out what exactly the problem was so he could solve it, so that shit could be sorted and they could be together, he knew that if he did, if he got the pop star to open up and explain everything, tell him everything, he'd have to do the same in return, have to open up and get all his own bullshit out there. It was only fair really, give as well as take.

Which was so not happening.

But he had to admit, somewhere inside of him, a teeny tiny, itsy bitsy, super microscopic part of him kinda _did_ wanna tell him, if for no other reason than the hope that the singer would open up and give the teen some much needed answers to why all this bullshit was happening.

Kendall's eyes roamed the room he was currently in, the dark gray cement block walls, the vending machines, the old tables—one of which had an uneven leg and constantly wobbled—the mismatched chairs, and the door that could be opened at any moment, any other employee of Sherwood's Grocery free to just walk right in and he couldn't do shit to stop them. No one cared if you were on the phone having a potentially life-altering—or at least a relationship-altering—conversation. They just wanted their junk snack or their soft drink out the machine and to sit for a few minutes, rather than standing at whatever position their job required them to be at. He'd lost track of the number of times that he'd done just that, just waltzed right in on someone else's chat, not giving a fuck if it was rude or not, using the argument that it was an employees lounge and as an employee he was free to come and go as he pleased when he was on break. Meaning someone else could do the exact same thing to him, give him the same explanation, the same amount of shit.

So needless to say, it wasn't the right locale for that kinda talk he wanted to have with James. _If_ he even wanted to have it.

Really fucking big "if" there.

But he never really got the chance to fully think it over. His supervisor, Mr. Smitty, popped his head in the door, looking around the room, stopping when his beady little eyes came across Kendall.

"Break's over, Knight," he stated sharply, pushing his round glasses up his nose. "There's shopping carts in the lot I need you to take in."

Kendall gave a sarcastic smile and a thumbs up, mentally puking at the cheesy ass grin he got in response, his hand gesture changing to a middle finger as Mr. Smitty disappeared back through the door.

"I gotta go," he said into his iPhone when all was clear.

"_Yeah, I heard. Shopping carts call._"

"Halfway tempted to just hit 'ignore' on that call to be honest," the blond somewhat joked, rubbing his eye with the heel of his left palm, arching his back to stretch.

The singer let out a small laugh. "_Hope you won't ignore my call later._"

Kendall froze in his arched position, eyes wide, before he recovered. Slumping his spine back, he sat normally, free hand on his lap. "You're gonna call later?"

"_Yeah._" The smile was in his voice, only to disappear and be replaced with a more hesitant tone. "_That's okay, right? I _can_ still call you. Right?_"

The blond leaned forward, elbows on his knees once again, head tilted down, acting as though the other male was in the same room and he wanted to hide the smirk on his face. "Yeah. I told you, you can call anytime you want."

"_What if I don't wanna call you at that time? Can I still call you then?_"

The teen furrowed his brow before laughing, pushing himself up so his left hand was on his knee, propping his upper body up. "You weren't kidding when you said you were fucked up."

The laugh that left James was humorless, forced, and Kendall wondered if he'd said the wrong thing again. "_Yeah. But I gotta go, too. Logan's doing this weird arm wave thing that generally means time to get off the phone and go. Yes, dude, I get the hint, I'm going. Christ._"

Lips twisted up in a small smirk, the blond rose to his feet, stretching his back once more. "Guess I'll letcha go then," he stated, dropping back down to his regular stance.

"_Yeah._"

Neither spoke, but neither got off the phone. It was one of those moments were something should be said, three words that were _way_ too early to be spoken, but the teen had a feeling they would be one day.

He swallowed hard, his chest tight with several emotions that continuously switched themselves around, never sticking long enough to be figured out and named.

James cleared his throat, seeming to wanna try and clear away the awkwardness with it. "_Right so. Talk to you later._"

"Right," Kendall nodded. "Later."

Another small pause, a "_later_", then the call was ended. The teen looked down at his iPhone, wishing things weren't so difficult, weren't so awkward, weren't so laborious. He wondered if things would ever be easier, where conversations just flowed, where neither were afraid to say something for fear of upsetting the other person or because it was something they just didn't wanna say. He wanted to fast-forward time, to whenever things were resolved between he and James, just to see if all this work would be worth it in the end, worth the awkwardness and the annoyance and the aches.

He had a feeling that no matter the outcome, he wouldn't care, that he'd deal with it all anyway. Because it was James.

With a heavy sigh, he slipped his iPhone up under his apron and into his jeans pocket, figuring he should get outside and grab the shopping carts. Conversations with gorgeous singers or not, he needed fucking money, which meant he needed this fucking job.

At least he had a phone call to look forward to later on.

* * *

Kendall wasn't about to do his usual pathetic ass routine of staring at that James Diamond concert update Twitter feed. Instead, he sat on his bed, guitar on his lap, determined to learn how to play Syn's solo in "Nightmare", only to get distracted by singing the words as he played the choruses and verses instead. But whatever. He still wasn't being some pansy ass motherfucker waiting around like a fucking loser for some guy to call and that was the important part. It wasn't the first time he'd had the thought of refusing to let James affect his mood and it probably wouldn't be the last. At that moment though, he truly meant it and was actually putting forth an effort to do so. He was doing something to make sure he wasn't being that sad lil puppy dog chasing after an owner who may not even want it.

Which was probably the saddest, most pathetic part of the whole fucking thing.

But no fucking more. Kendall wasn't gonna be the stray that kept getting kicked, only to continually return to its abuser. He was done with that shit, no matter what happened between him and James.

Only to immediately grab hold of his phone as soon as it started ringing.

Realizing what he was doing, Kendall waited for a moment, taking a deep breath-or four-to calm his nerves and not make it so fucking obvious that he was anxious to hear from James. Then he answered.

"Hello?"

"_Hey._" That smile was in James' voice and damn if it didn't make Kendall smile, too. "_How are ya?_"

The blond made a mental point not to say anything too cheesy or lame or something that would make the brunet immediately wanna run. "All right, I guess. You?"

"_Good. Tired, but good._"

"How'd the show go?"

"_Good, good._"

There was a pause, neither knowing what to say. Fuck this was awkward. Kendall wondered once again if all their conversations were gonna be like this, have these huge lulls in them. Then he decided he kinda didn't care, as long as he was actually on the phone with the other male.

"_So what are you up to?_" the elder male broke the silence, figuring out what to say.

"Not much, messin' on my guitar, tryna learn a new song," he replied, laying the instrument next to him on the bed.

"_What song?_"

The blond debated telling him, pretty much convinced the brunet wouldn't know it. After all, the guy was part of the whole bubblegum pop world, and despite Avenged Sevenfold briefly being on MTV a few years ago, this was a newer song, one he didn't think the singer would know.

"Doubt you've heard of it."

"_Try me._"

Kendall cocked an eyebrow before lowering it and shrugging. "'Nightmare' by Avenged Sevenfold."

A few seconds of silence before "_Yeah, you were right, I don't know it._" The teen smiled smugly, kinda bummed the elder male couldn't see it. "_I _do _know a different song by them though,_" the pop star continued before he started singing. "_'A lonely road, crossed another cold state line. Miles away from those I love, hope is hard to find.'_"

Kendall closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he slumped back against his headboard, sliding down so he was in a laying position, James' voice washing over him. Not fucking fair, definitely not fucking okay either. The guy's voice was amazing enough, already able to move the blond in ways he didn't think were possible. But now he was singing _that_ song? Of all the A7X songs in the world...

"I love that one," he confessed lowly, back of his left hand resting on his forehead, eyes still closed. "One of my faves."

"_Yeah? It's really good. Kinda relatable._" The last part was spoken in that low, reluctant voice James used when he said something Kendall figured the brunet didn't wanna say or have the blond hear, or maybe even both. The teen wondered if the singer would ever be able to speak his feelings at a normal volume and not be afraid of it.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to do that himself.

His mind went back to earlier thoughts in Sherwood's break room, thoughts of opening up himself in the hope that James would do the same. But really, there was no guarantee that would happen. There was always the huge chance that the singer could turn around and say "that sucks" but not give any information about himself that would lead to the teen understanding him better. There was an even greater chance of the brunet realizing just how fucked up the blond was and deciding to never speak to him again because of it. Which, in all honesty, was probably the biggest thing holding Kendall back. Sure there was the fact that he just flat out didn't wanna tell anyone at all, but with James, it went beyond that, to the point where he wanted to hide all the bad shit even further back in that proverbial closet and be the perfect person he felt the brunet deserved. Because as much as he wanted the elder male to like him for his true self, the younger knew that there were parts of him that were just flat out unlovable, unacceptable, and would make the singer run so far, so fast, never to return again.

So clearly, his decision to keep that shit to himself was the right choice, the _only_ choice.

'_Things are never gonna go anywhere between you two,_' his brain oh so cheerfully pointed out. '_You're gonna be forever stuck in this limbo, both of you scared to make a move, neither of you helping things progress. Yeah, this relationship is gonna work out soooo well._'

'_I seriously don't have time for this bullshit._'

'_Too fuckin' bad. You're gonna get it anyw-_'

"So," Kendall spoke out loud down the phone line, interrupting his own thoughts, desperately trying to get some sorta of conversation going. Partially so he didn't have to hear said thoughts, but also to prove himself wrong. "You gonna keep singing to me?" He smirked as he played with the edge of his t-shirt, looking down at his fingers as they moved.

A laugh sounded out in his ear, James seeming amused by the question. "_You telling me you don't have my music on your iPod?_"

The blond paused his actions, lips twisting as he thought of the right response, one that wouldn't piss off the singer or make him seem like an obsessed fanboy. "Not the same," he replied, mentally patting himself on the back for the diplomatic answer, fingers pulling at his tee once again. "Besides, you haven't recorded any Avenged Sevenfold covers."

"_True,_" the elder male conceded. "_Starting to think you're only with me for my vocal talents._"

"Maybe I am," he joked with a smirk, folding his arm behind his head on the pillow.

A snort sounded down the line. "_Well, when do I get to hear your vocal talents again?_"

Kendall's brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what the fuck the other male was talking about. The blond wasn't really much of a singer, only having somewhat sung along with the radio or to himself when shoveling snow off driveways or in the shower. But he hadn't done that in years, not really in the mood for it anymore. Plus the music he listened to was a little hard to sing along to without busting a blood vessel in his brain or thrashing his throat.

And as he thought about it more, he realized he'd never sung in front of James, meaning the pop star had no idea of any "vocal talents" the blond may or may not possess. Unless he was referring to something else entirely.

Green eyes went wide as it hit him. Was the singer seriously suggesting what the teen thought he was?

"_On that note,_" James continued, smirk in his voice. "_What are you wearing?_"

The blond chuckled in disbelief, somewhat surprised that he'd been right, but wondering why it shocked him. "Are you serious?"

"_Hell yeah!_" the singer replied, the teen able to picture the face he'd be making as he said that perfectly. "_Why the hell not? Was a lotta fun last time. Plus I'm hoping to hear about every pair of boxers you own before we meet up again._"

His eyes went over to his bureau, landing on the top drawer where he kept the mentioned clothing item, picturing them stashed within haphazardly, practically just shoved into the wooden confines. "I have a lot of 'em," he stated, lifting his head off the pillow and rubbing the back of it.

"_Means a lotta phone sex then._" That smirk was back in his voice, the brunet clearly more than okay with this plan. "_Oh, first time we have sex, you gotta wear the ones with the skull on the ass like you wore last time we did this._"

Several thoughts passed through Kendall's head as his eyebrows went up, the first being that James actually remembered what pair of boxers he'd mentioned last time. Second, was how the singer had pretty much assumed they were about to have phone sex again. Third was the pop star's other assumption that they were definitely gonna fuck, and apparently more than once judging by the phrase "first time".

He shifted on the bed as he felt a stirring in the current pair of boxers he was wearing-dark gray and black plaid if he remembered right.

"Thought I was supposed to be naked," he pointed out, scooting up slightly on the pillows so he was half-laying, half-slouched, left hand taking hold of the iPhone and pressing it to his left ear, as his right hand dropped unceremoniously onto his stomach.

"_When we actually _sleep_, yeah._" The singer was obviously planning for lots and lots of sex, the blond biting his bottom lip at the thought of all day fuck-fests in hotel rooms or on the bus the pop star traveled in. His dick started getting harder at the images flashing through his mind, his hips rolling on their own. "_But you can't be naked all the time, which kinda sucks, but whatever. Besides, the thought of taking clothes off you sounds fun._"

Kendall thought about it himself, picturing heated kisses as hands fought to take clothing off, lips parting to pull tees over heads. He imagined buttons flying as shirts were ripped open in a hurry, trembling hands anxious to undo belt buckles, fights with jean buttons and uncooperative zippers. He imagined his hair being pulled, neck being sucked on and nibbled, hands colliding between their bodies as they both fought to strip the other person, fought to gain control of the situation, fought to see the other male's skin first. He imagined the singer's lips traveling over newly exposed skin, kissing all over his own lean torso, teeth biting on his nipples, tongue swirling in his navel, James' hazel eyes locked on his green ones as the brunet mouthed over his cock through his boxers. He imagined cloth covered erections grinding together, both of them moaning at the contact of too much and not enough, loving the friction but needing more. He imagined all of it, worried that reality wouldn't live it up to it, feeling like it would be better, knowing that phone sex wasn't gonna be enough.

"_So,_" James started, before his voice dropped an octave, becoming deeper, harsher, huskier, and altogether sexier. "_What are you wearing?_"

The blond palmed his now fully hard dick, wishing he hadn't put on sweats post-shower, wishing he was in just his boxers, wishing the singer was there to take all of it off of him. "Whatever you want me to wear."

A dark laugh came down the line, followed by an even darker voice. "_Nice answer._"


	20. Skype Skype Baby

_**A/N: **__First of all, I apologize to Vanilla Ice and Skype for the retarded ass chapter title but it's all I could come up with._

_Secondly, yay me and my ability to plan ahead so this could be done in a timely manner. Had the dialogue pretty much all written out (minus a few alterations here and there), so all I had to do was add the narration and boom! Chapter! Amazing._

_Third, belated birthday shout outs to mah girl Sophie! Love ya oodles and I swear that oneshot is in the works, whenever my brain allows me to work on it and isn't all "OMG WOULDN'T THIS MAKE AN ADORABLE DRABBLE YOU SHOULD WRITE IT RIGHT NOW!" Le sigh._

_Fourth, I hit four-hundred reviews :D Thank you guys so so much for giving this silly lil story a shot and to everyone who took the time to tell me what you think. Means a lot._

_Lastly...I have no lastly. Um, ass covering witty comments about not owning or even having Skype on computer because I have yet to figure out where my webcam is or how to work it. *pokes black strip I think is a webcam* It's fun to mess with friends about it though... Other than that, I believe that's it. Enjoy! Or not. I won't judge._

* * *

All they did was have phone sex.

Okay, Kendall shouldn't complain. It had been an entire week, seven whole days since that conversation at work and James had called every night. The singer hadn't freaked out, hadn't run, hadn't hid for a couple days to return with half-assed apologies and less than acceptable excuses. No, the brunet would text the blond letting the teen know approximately how long it would be before he called, the phone ringing pretty much when the singer said it would.

The routine continued throughout the conversation. They'd both start out smiling, repeating their "hey"s to each other, awkward impersonal "so how are you, how was your day, what are you up to" questions being asked, the same answers given. Then the phone sex, which James stated was necessary in order to finish learning Kendall's boxer collection. And the blond played along, not arguing, joining in and getting into it. Hard not to when the hottest guy you'd ever set eyes on was moaning down the phone line as he described what he wanted to do to you. The teen could be exhausted, nearly dead, totally not in the mood to deal with anyone or anything—well, more in that mood than usual—but he'd still be up for an x-rated conversation. No pun intended.

And while every time was different, James having quite an imagination and/or the Kama Sutra memorized, Kendall wanted more. They didn't have to have in-depth discussions over politics—bullshit—or religion—more bullshit—but he wished they'd talk about something other than what sexual acts they wish to perform on or with the other person. Because in all honesty, the blond was starting to feel a little taken advantage of, feeling like the only thing the singer was interested in was getting off and using the blond as a way to do it. Not that he needed phone calls with the teen for that, considering the countless groupies that were ready and more than willing to help ease whatever sexual aches the pop star would have. There was no point in him wasting his time with some teen back in Minnesota that he had no clue when he'd see the guy again.

But still, Kendall couldn't help but feel like that's all he was, just an auditory helper in aiding the other male's jack-off sessions. Because other than a supplier of some moans and a few comments about what he'd do in whatever sexual situation the singer was describing, the blond was pretty much useless. There was no point in keeping him around. All he was was a necessary partner in an x-rated conversation.

But once that was over, when the orgasms had dribbled over their hands and down their cocks, when the highs were wearing off and their breathing returning to normal, that's when James would shut down even more. The singer would state he was tired, about to fall asleep, when twenty-seconds prior he was awake and full of energy. And yeah, okay, coming kinda took a lot outta ya and you got to that happy blissful place where all you wanted to do was doze off, and yeah, a pop star's life was pretty hectic and the brunet was probably exhausted after all the dancing and singing he did. But he acted the same exact way on days off and nights when he didn't have a show, leading the blond to believe he was lying, that he was doing it as an exit strategy, as a way to get off the phone before he was forced into having an _actual_ conversation, without seeming rude.

And Kendall was fucking sick of it, sick of dealing with all of it, sick of never actually saying anything to James about it for fear of making the elder male wanna run again. So when Camille asked him how things were going with the brunet male during a Skype call, it totally wasn't the blond's fault that he exploded with pent-up annoyance and anger. And like the perfect friend she was—and that he didn't deserve in the slightest—she just sat there and listened, letting him rant it all out, not interrupting, not getting pissed that he was taking it out on her, not caring that he was insulting her favorite singer.

And when he was finished, when he'd finally gotten all that shit off his chest, she remained sitting there, silently contemplating, taking everything in and mulling it over. And Kendall remained just as quiet, letting her think, hand repeatedly rubbing over the top of his beanie, elbows resting on his desk.

"_Maybe he's afraid of intimacy,_" Camille suggested after a long couple moments, shrugging slightly as her lips turned down in a slight pout of sorts.

The blond cocked an eyebrow as he considered her idea, mind going over every conversation, every dirty comment, every swear word and dialogue that seemed like it was straight out of a porno. James never held back, going over every last detail of what he'd do to the younger male, describing body parts, describing actions, describing pretty much everything one could think of when it came to sex. And then some. Plus the guy had a habit of just throwing out the sex talk like it was nothing, leading Kendall to believe the singer had no issues when it came to anything relating to the bedroom.

"Considering the shit he says," Kendall started, dropping his hand so his forearm was laying across his desk in front of him, alongside his left arm. "I don't think that's it."

"_There's more than one kind of intimacy,_" the brunette argued, leaning back in her seat, arms folded over her chest. "_Yeah, there's the sex aspect of it-_" she admitted, rolling her eyes slightly and tilting her head from side to side "_-but there's also opening up, being vulnerable, letting someone in, telling them your inner-most secrets,_ that _kind of intimacy._"

The blond raised his eyebrows, seeing her point, mulling it over himself. Her reasoning was pretty logical and seemed to make a lotta sense. It was something he dealt with on a daily basis himself, the refusal to open up and tell exactly what was happening in his head for various reasons, including the fear of rejection from the other person once they learned what a fuck up he was. And James himself had even said he was fucked up, so it stood to good reason that the singer didn't wanna let anyone else in and see exactly how fucked up he truly was.

Camille continued, capturing Kendall's attention. "_I mean, what do we know about his past? He grew up in Cali, was in a kid's choir, and his parents split, that's it. And for all we know, it could've been something pretty bad and ugly, something he doesn't wanna talk about with anyone else._"

He nodded, once again understanding her and what she was saying, relating to the concept. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized something else.

"Bet he tells Logan though," he muttered, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms over his chest. And okay, maybe he was pouting and being a bit immature, but whatever. He'd earned that right.

At least he felt he had in his own head.

She rolled her eyes at him, dropping her hands onto the desk. "_Logan's been there James' entire life. He probably saw all of it, like with Carlos and you. Opening up to new people can be scary, especially when it's someone you like and wanna impress._"

Her words were wise and, once again, hit home, Kendall able to relate to what she was saying like before. And, like before, it made a lot of sense and seemed like a pretty damn good explanation for what was going on in James' head and why he was acting the way he was.

Impressed as hell, he nodded, showing the feeling on his face as he turned his lips down in a thoughtful manner, chin slightly sticking out. "You're good at this."

Camille simply shrugged once again, arms folded on the desk, humble yet smug smile on her face. "_My dad's had four wives and three divorces. Not a lot I haven't seen._"

A small snort left him. "If you say so," he replied, right hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing. "But thanks. For everything."

Another shrug from his female friend, this one wordlessly saying that it was nothing, that what she'd done wasn't a big deal. "_I know we met over the internet or whatever, but we're friends, and that's what friends do. And I know that if we were friends in real life and not cyberspace, I'd be doing and saying the same exact thing. Oh, and hugging you._" She wrapped up her statements with a smile, brown eyes sparkling despite the pixelization.

He cocked an eyebrow as he dropped his hand, arms folded over his chest once more. "Yeah, I'm not a hugger."

Her smirk stayed. "_I could change that._"

He snorted, eyebrow going back to its regular place. "No way in hell."

"_You never know._"

"I do. And it's not happening."

Camille's reply was drowned out by Kendall's iPhone sounding out, Avenged Sevenfold's "Dear God" blasting out, alerting the blond to who was calling. 'Cause there was the slight possibility that the day after James had sung the tune to the blond on the phone, the teen had changed the singer's ringtone to that song and had it set so that it played solely when the pop star dialed him. But whatever.

The brunette female raised an eyebrow of her own, lips twisting up in the corner in a smirk that was both suggestive and amused. "_James calling, huh?_"

The blond's eyes snapped from the iPhone on the desk to the laptop screen, the green orbs slightly wide in surprise at his friend knowing who had called. "How'd you know?" he questioned once he wiped the shock away, replacing it with a more curious look.

"_The giant stupid smile that formed on your face. That, plus the cheesy song that started playing._"

"Hey!" He pointed a finger at the screen, glaring. "Avenged is _not_ cheesy!"

"_Yeah, yeah._" She dismissed him with a wave of the hand, rolling her eyes. "_I'll letcha talk to your boyfriend then._"

"He's not my bo-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his argument. She'd hung up before he'd even gotten the second word out. He couldn't help but smirk at her techniques, chuckling slightly as he grabbed hold of his iPhone and hit 'answer', stating his "hey" down the line.

"_Hey, you._" The smile was in James' voice, as it always was when their calls first started, always seeming glad to be talking to the blond. And, as always, Kendall smiled back. "_What are you up to?_"

The blond leaned back in his seat, left hand on top of his beanie-covered head. "Just got done Skyping with a friend."

"_You have Skype?!_" the singer's voice was a mix of excitement and disbelief, like he couldn't understand why the teen hadn't mentioned the webchat program before or why they hadn't considered using it instead of their nightly phone calls.

Kendall's brow furrowed in confusion at the other male's overreaction to that announcement, thinking it was kind of an obvious thing that he'd have the program, wondering why it hadn't been brought up before. "Uh, yeah," he replied somewhat cautiously, looking around in confusion, finger swirling the pad on his laptop and moving his cursor around.

"_Gimme your number. We're Skyping._"

Arousal hit the blond at the brunet's command, heat washing over him, rushing through his blood and causing him to squirm in his seat slightly. He cleared his throat, giving his number to the other male, and receiving a "_call you soon_" in response before being hung up on. Pulling the iPhone from his ear, he stared at it, letting out a "rude" before putting the device on his desk. No point in getting too pissed over that, not when he was about to get something even better instead. He was gonna be able to actually see James while they spoke, be able to watching his lips move to form words, see the smile that he heard so often in the brunet's voice. Definitely worth being hung up on.

But on the downside, it meant that James could see _him_, too. Shit.

Okay, the beanie covered any possible bad hair situations and a quick glance down at his black thermal revealed no stains, no dandruff, nothing embarrassing. Nothing he could do about his face, or the scruff covering it. Not that he'd shave even if he wanted to. Maybe tomorrow he might feel like it.

His laptop started ringing as a new Skype call started coming through. He dropped his hand from where he was rubbing his whisker covered jaw, answering, watching as his screen filled up with a shot of the brunet male he'd been dying to see again.

And the singer looked just as good as the teen remembered. His brown hair was slightly side-swept, eyes tired but bright, scruff covering his own jaw and cheeks, a black wifebeater over his muscular frame. But the best part was his smile, that same genuine smile Kendall had seen at the meet-n-greet, in the dressing room, when they were onstage together. That smile that seemed to be just for the blond and no one else. That smile that was making the teen's heart race, his stomach flip, and his feelings for the brunet grow.

"_Hey, good looking._"

Kendall cocked an eyebrow as he looked at the other male, fighting the smirk that threatened to break out on his face. "You talkin' to someone other than me?"

The grin stayed on James' face. "_Nope._"

"So, you're talking to yourself then."

The brunet rolled his eyes, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "_So,_" he started, leaning back, the screen slightly shaking with the movement. Kendall could see pillows behind the singer's head, standard white ones, a light wooden headboard of no particular shape or style, leading him to believe the other male was at a hotel for the night. "_That's your room, huh?_"

The blond turned and looked around the room, before turning back to the screen. "Yup."

"_Take me on a tour._"

The eyebrow went up once again, the teen ignoring how the elder male's order affected him, pulling at his jeans on his thighs. "Why?"

James shrugged, finger-combing his bangs as he licked his lips. "_You can learn a lot about someone from their room._"

His eyebrow remained cocked as he took in what the singer said, figuring the only reason someone would say something like that would be because they wanted to actually get to know the person they requested the tour from. And while Kendall had been dying to learn more about James, his background, his past, his life outside of the public image shown in magazines and on the internet, it never occurred to him that the singer would want the same thing, would want to get to know Kendall more. Mostly because the brunet never asked, but also due to the fact that he kept hanging up, never actually wanted to have a conversation outside of sex talk.

"Really?" was his disbelieving response, eyebrow going back down, arms folded over his chest as he leaned back in his seat. "That mean I get a tour of your room?"

"_I'm in a hotel right now so why'd you want a tour of that-?_"

"Not that room," Kendall interrupted. "Your bedroom back home."

There was a pause, the singer finger-combing his hair as he head tilted down. A moment later, he raised it, eyes locked on the screen once again. "_Not really much to see._"

"I'll be the judge of that."

"_You're a shit tour guide,_" James changed the subject, lips twisted up in a slight smirk. "_Get to movin'._"

Kendall rolled his eyes, forcing out a huff as he stood up, holding onto his laptop and turning it so the camera was pointed out and away from him. He made quick work on the bedroom, ignoring commentary coming from the device.

"_Your entire closet is one color. And so disorganized! How are your t-shirts mixed in with your jeans? Don't you have anything nice?_"

"_Why are your walls so dark? It's depressing._"

"_The Metallica poster is so you._"

That one caused Kendall to turn the laptop back to himself to show the quirked eyebrow he was wearing, seeing the confused look James wore in response.

"_What?_"

"Really? It's me? The _St. Anger_ poster is me?"

"_Yup._"

Another eye roll, then the blond got back to his tour, still ignoring the comments about the mess and the lack of color. Well, _mostly_ ignoring them.

"_Even your window is colorless and depressing._"

"It's night."

"_Not a valid excuse._"

"Shut up and let me give you a fuckin' tour, damn."

"_Fiiiine._"

He allowed the laptop to have a quick glance into the bathroom, not really seeing the point in showing that off too much, before ending the tour at his bed.

"And that's it," he wrapped up, making his way over to the piece of furniture.

"_That's where the magic happens, huh?_" James questioned, his tone suggestive and flirtatious.

"If by magic, you mean sleep," Kendall replied, sitting on the bed and putting his computer on his lap, the screen turned to himself. "Then yeah."

The singer rolled his eyes. "_Considering how our phone calls go, I'm talking about more than sleep._" His voice dropped an octave, smile salacious, tongue darting out to wet his lips once more.

The blond shifted in his seat, feeling his dick twitch as his mind went through various clips and phrases the singer had said during the mentioned conversations, snippets of the suggestive things the brunet had stated he wanted to do to the younger male. And while part of him actually wanted to experience Skype sex for the first time and actually _see_ what the other male did while speaking those x-rated fantasies, he couldn't help but recall earlier concerns he had about being used solely for jack-off material, how he thought that that was all the elder male wanted from him, that despite the request for a tour so he could learn about the blond from the looks of his bedroom, the brunet still wasn't fully interested in using Kendall for anything that didn't involve his dick.

"Actually," he started, voice somewhat reluctant, hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I was hoping we could talk."

James' brow furrowed, bottom lip sticking out in confusion, and damn if he didn't look adorable like that.

Whoa! 'Adorable'? Since when did Kendall use the word 'adorable'? And since when did he describe guys that way?

Fuck, his feminization was getting worse.

The loss of his balls certainly explained his inability to speak up at times though.

"_What are you talking about?_" the singer questioned, regaining the teen's attention. "_We always talk. We've talked every night for the past week._"

The blond dropped his hand, folding his arms over his chest as he settled back against his pillows. "Yeah, about what sexual acts we'd do together. I wanna talk about more than that."

The brunet's brown furrowed again, this time for something more than just confusion. A small sadness had washed over his face, the high quality of his webcam allowing the younger male to see the change, see his eyes darken and turn down at the sides, see the way he swallowed hard.

"_Why?_"

Kendall unfolded his arms in an attempt to seem less aggressive, seem friendlier, seem nicer, all in the hopes that if he appeared less confrontational, the elder male would be more cooperative and go along with his plan.

"I wanna get to know you." His voice was low but sincere, green eyes pleading as they looked at the laptop screen.

But what they viewed wasn't anything he wanted to see.

James visibly stiffened, body tensing up, his face becoming that emotionless mask he wore right before he left the dressing room. "_Kendall—_" he started, then trailed off, voice as flat as his face.

"Lemme guess," the younger male started, not bothering to hide his annoyance or aggravation in his tone or on his face. "You had a long day and you're really tired."

It was the same excuse the elder always gave and the singer knew it. Shoulders slumped, he hung his head, finger-combing his brunet locks. "_Yeah,_" he breathed out, speaking quietly. "_Sorry._"

The blond snorted. "No, you're not. If you were, you'd actually talk to me."

The pop star's demeanor and body language shifted again, head raising as his eyes narrowed in a glare. He leaned back against his pillows, arms folded over his broad face, anger etched on his face as he clenched his jaw. "_Pretty sure you have_ no _room to say anything about_ my_ inability to open up._"

The teen furrowed his brow, confused. "What?"

"_Tell me about your dad, Kendall._"

It was a simple, harmless request, one given with a slight shrug. But given the hard look in the brunet's eyes and the way the blond had tensed up, they both knew it wasn't as innocent as it may seem to others.

The younger male felt his own features turn into an expressionless mask of his own, voice flat. "He was a guy."

"_Uh huh,_" the elder's tone showed he didn't believe the other male. "_That's what I thought._" He shifted on the bed, sitting up straighter, aggression rolling off his muscular frame. "_Until you can open up about your past, don't push me about mine._" With that, he reached his hand forward and ended their call.

Kendall yelled out a "fuck!", slamming his laptop shut and tossing it next to him on the bed. Placing his feet flat, he bent his knees up, elbows resting on them, clasped hands on top of his head as he tilted it down. He closed his eyes, replaying his latest fuck up in his mind, over and over and over. Both of them were fucked up, both of them were hypocrites. The twosome clearly wanted to get to know the other person, but neither wanted to open themselves up or let anyone else in.

Recipe for a successful relationship right there.

A long harsh sigh left Kendall, his body rising and falling with the action. He lifted his head, shoving his beanie off, scratching his fingers through his hair. Grabbing his laptop, he got off the bed, carrying the device over to his desk and laying it down on top. His finger traced over the smooth logo as he spaced out, thinking over his conversations with Camille and James, realizing they'd both made a lotta sense, which led to the further realization that he needed to do something he hadn't done in fuck knew how long.

Apologize. And actually mean it.


	21. A Different Kind of Chemistry Class

_**A/N:**__ Okay, so first of all, I changed the warnings for this. If you're reading this update on LiveJournal, then you can see it up there^^. If you're reading it on , then the warnings are as follows and I quote: "Rated M for language, graphic sex, underage drinking, homophobic slurs, references to drug use and violence, and just general asshole behavior. Other warnings to come later." The other warnings are too spoilery so I'm not putting them just yet ;)_

_"Bitters blows goats" is a throwback to when I was in high school and that statement was yelled out at one of our Vice Principals, Mr Weiss, at pep rallies, as well as graffiti'd in several places and papers stating such taped to lockers. It's also somewhat a reference to "Big Time School of Rocque" and their mascot Gus. Jenny's a reference, of course, to Jenny Tinkler and the Tommy Tutone song that if you say you don't know it, you're lying. This explanation will seem less pointless once you've read the update._

_And since this will be my last update before Christmas, I hope you have a good one, if you celebrate it. If you don't celebrate it, I hope you have a happy Tuesday the 25th :)_

* * *

Knowing he had to apologize and actually _doing_ it were two totally different fucking things. It was a fact Kendall knew all too well, a fact he was being reminded of.

He'd tried to apologize as soon as the thought hit his head, his fingers no longer tracing the logo on his laptop, but wrapping around his iPhone instead. Only for him to toss the device on his bed before heading to the bathroom. Face washed, teeth brushed, and clothes stripped off, he lay in bed, holding his iPhone once more, this time with the singer's contact info actually pulled up. Only to close it out and plug the smartphone up.

Kendall had gotten zero sleep that night, mind whirring, but always coming back to the same thoughts. First was how he'd once again lost shut eye due to the other male, which pissed him off. That led to thought number two, how he was allowing James to affect his mood again.

The third thought was more of a general wondering over how long it would take the brunet to call, only for Kendall to realize the elder always reached out to him. If shit was gonna work out, he needed to put forth an effort, too. _He_ needed to initiate contact every now and then, _he_ needed to show interest, instead of laying in wait, hoping the other male would call or text. Relationships were a two-way street, full of give and take, and Kendall couldn't constantly keep taking like that, not if things were gonna progress in any way.

His final thought was how shit just wasn't gonna work, that they were just a disaster waiting to happen, a runaway train with no brakes. They were gonna crash, gonna burn, gonna both get hurt.

It was that belief that had Kendall skipping science—because the only chemistry he really needed to know was the one between him and James—heading under the bleachers, only to find it already occupied by a small group of his fellow delinquents. Thankful he hadn't been spotted by anyone, Kendall turned and headed back to the main building, deciding to hang in the first boys' bathroom he happened upon.

Luck continued to shine upon him, the restroom empty, meaning he wouldn't have to relocate a second time. He headed straight to the handicap stall in the back, closing the door over before dropping his bookbag and leaning against the wall in the corner. Pulling his iPhone out his pocket, he stared down at the device, at the photo of two male hands, thinking over what exactly he wanted to say.

There was a good chance that all James wanted from him was sex, whether on the phone or in person. Sure, the pop star could easily get laid, the bene of being young, rich, famous, and ridiculously good looking, but maybe he liked having a readily available groupie in different areas of the country. Maybe he wanted a no-strings relationship, where all they did was have phone sex with no romantic attachments or getting in too deep with personal conversations about their pasts. And as much as Kendall wanted more, as badly as he wanted an _actual_ romantic relationship that involved more than their hands, dicks, and x-rated words, he realized he might have to settle for less.

And strangely enough, he was kinda okay with that.

He knew it was fucked up and stupid and wussing out to just lay down and roll over and let James do whatever. But settling for just phone sex was better than not having the singer in his life at all.

His green eyes came across the toilet a couple feet away in front of him, mind wondering if his pride had gone down it at some point.

With a harsh sigh and a steeled resolved, he pulled up the other male's contact info, doing a last minute mental double-check of what he wanted to say before hitting call.

It rang three times before there was an answer. "_'Lo?_"

And everything Kendall had thought up went out the window.

His hands went to the top of his head, fingers shoved in his hair and pulling on the dirty blond strands. "Uh, hey."

"_Kendall?_" The pop star's voice was full of confusion before it changed to cautious relief. "_Hey. What's going on?_"

Yeah, the teen had no fucking clue what to say, what to do. He'd never initiated any of the convos the two of them had, the brunet generally the one to end any silences. He also didn't really apologize either, at least not without a heavy dose of sarcasm and/or attitude. Not to mention the whole dating and relationships thing was still fairly new to him, never mind the fact that the guy he wanted to go out with was in the public eye.

Man, was he fucked.

Kendall released his hair, smearing his hand over his face. "I, uh," he started then stopped, dropping his hand and hooking his thumb on his belt loop, fingers playing with his wallet chains. "I just wanted to. Apologize. For pushing you and prying and—" He paused again, sighing as he shrugged and shook his hanging head. "Yeah, sorry."

"_I'm sorry, too,_" James replied, voice low, serious, genuine. "_I really need to stop hanging up on you._"

A small laugh left the blond as he nodded his head, eyes focused on his feet as he crossed his ankles. "Would be nice."

The singer laughed, too, before giving out a "_hold on a sec_". The sounds of Logan's voice drifted down the line, mentions of interviews and soundchecks and meet-n-greets. Oh my.

Still leaning in the corner, Kendall looked around at his surroundings. The gray stall walls were chipping, the paint nothing more than a cheap and halfway successful attempt at covering graffiti, more writing just being added on top. The cement blocks that made up the walls were a flat white like the rest of the school, only a couple shades dirtier. Unknown stains that he didn't wanna figure out were around the toilet, on the floor, on the walls. To sum up, the dirty boys bathroom of a high school in the middle of Minnesota was a far cry from the glamorous, shiny life James led.

"_Sorry 'bout that,_" the brunet stated into the phone, drawing the blond's attention away from Sharpie declarations that one should call Jenny for a good time and that Bitters blows goats. "_Logan need—_"

"It's not gonna work between us, is it?"

There was silence on the other end of the line, the pop star seeming caught off guard. Which made a lotta sense, considering the teen's interruption and totally random statement, as well as what exactly that statement was.

When the singer spoke once again, his voice was low, words husky, like he was speaking around a lump in his throat. "_What makes you say that?_"

Releasing his wallet chains, Kendall laid his arm across his lean torso, fingers gripping his dark gray longsleeve. "Other than the fact that you're a big international pop star and I'm just some dude from Bumfuck, Minnesota?"

"_But that can be dealt with._"

"I guess," he muttered, head tilting down as he uncrossed his ankles, boot kicking the tiled floor.

"_You guess?_" The brunet seemed like he couldn't understand why the blond didn't agree, why he didn't believe it. "_People do it all the time. There are countless celebs out there who date and marry non-celebs from Bumfuck Wherever!_" His voice grew louder, more passionate with each word, before he calmed himself down and spoke in a more even tone. "_But if that's not what you're referring to, then what is?_"

Kendall raised his hand to the back of his neck and gripped it tightly before speaking. "How neither of us seem to possess the ability to talk about ourselves," he pointed out, shoving his hand in his jeans pocket. "Unless it's about what we wanna do to the other person."

More silence, the blond worried he'd said the wrong thing again. But he hadn't, not really. It was something that needed to be said, needed to be put out there. And it wasn't like he had demanded the elder male start opening up or the younger was gonna stop talking to him. He'd just pointed out a flaw they both happened to have that would make any sort of relationship between the two of them pretty much impossible.

And the singer must've realized this, because he didn't hang up, didn't get pissed. Instead, he let out a muffled "_shit_", like he was smearing his hand over his mouth as he spoke.

"A whole lot of it," the teen added as he nodded, repeatedly hitting the heel of his right foot against the toes of his left.

"_Well, maybe we could try? Tonight?_" James' voice was somewhat hesitant as he made the suggestion, before it grew stronger. "_When I call, I promise no sex talk or references to what I'm not wearing._"

A long sigh left the younger male, his head falling back against the wall. Once again, he had an out, a perfect exit, a nice way to back out and have it be clean and easy, no mess, no fuss. He could finally fully wash his hands of it all, no more drama, no more emotional rollercoasters, no more bullshit.

No more James.

"_Please?_"

The brunet's voice was desperate, wavering, pleading, transporting the blond back to the first texts he'd received from the other male, the request to call, followed by a quick and simple "_please?_"

Just like in this moment.

And, like before, the teen gave in.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, straightening his head. "Worth a shot, right?"

"_Be crazy together._"

"Well, us having a non-X-rated convo would _definitely_ be crazy."

Both males laughed, both knowing it was only funny because it was true. They both trailed off together James being the first one to speak.

"_So it's agreed,_" he started, wrapping everything up and maybe sure all was clear. "Just _talking, no sex shit. Behaving._"

"Right," Kendall agreed, nodding once.

"_So, Skype is out,_" the brunet decided, making a noise like he was stretching. "_'Cause no way am I gonna be able to handle seeing that face of yours without telling what I wanna do to it._"

Green eyes went wide as the blond's eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. His mind was immediately bombarded with images of the brunet fucking his face and coming on it, the teen's dick twitching hard in his pants, a moan getting caught in his throat.

"_Although I'll miss seeing those cute dimples._"

_That_ killed the arousal in a heartbeat, the shock on his face shifting to a scowl, jaw clenched, eyes hard and narrowed. "You did _not_ just call me cute."

A snort sounded down the line. "_Uh, yeah, I did._"

He glared at the wall across from him, focusing his anger on the toilet seat cover dispenser. "I hate you."

Now it was an amused chuckle. "_No, you don't._"

Taking his hand out his pocket, Kendall shoved it through his hair, scratching his scalp as his fingers passed through. "Fine, I don't," he relented. "But I _do_ hate being called 'cute'."

"_I'll stop calling you cute when you stop being it,_" the singer stated, grin evident in his voice. "_Which is never, by the way._"

The blond muttered out a "whatever", acting like he was annoyed, trying to seem pissed at the emasculating description. But in reality, he was smiling wide, his heart pounding, his stomach flipping. No guy had ever called him 'cute', although he wasn't sure if that was because they didn't think he was or because they knew he'd punch the fucker that said it. But with James, the teen not only didn't feel like breaking into fisticuffs, he was relishing the adjective and hoping to hear it more often.

Only instead, he heard the bell ring.

"_Are you at school?_" the brunet questioned, almost sounding in disbelief. "_Did you cut class to call me?_"

The blond shrugged, shoving it aside like the non-issue that it was. "I've cut class to do worse."

"_You should still show up though. You show up, then you get good grades and you can graduate._"

"_Or_ I could just drop out." His smile a smug one, the knowledge that he'd had a damn good suggestion making him cocky.

"_You won't,_" the elder male argued, confident as he spoke, fully believing everything he was saying. "_You wouldn't wanna influence Katie that way._"

The younger male opened his mouth to voice his disagreement, but shut it when he realized he couldn't. Strange how the other guy seemed to know him so well after barely any real conversations.

"_Get to class,_" James ordered. "_I'll call you later._" With that, he hung up.

Pulling the iPhone from his ear, Kendall stared at the screen, muttering out a "dick", smirk still on his face. He knew there was no point in getting pissed, not when they were at such a good place, not when he'd be getting another phone call later. Shaking his head in amusement, he shoved his phone in his pocket, leaning over to grab his backpack. His next class was one hall over. He'd easily make it there in time.

* * *

"_So. What should we talk about?_"

It was a simple question, one that should be easy to answer. But as Kendall lounged on his bed, arm folded behind his head on the pillows, phone pressed to his ear, he honestly couldn't come up with an answer.

They'd already gone through the usual "how are you?", "how was your day?", "what are you up to?" bullshit, James only making a brief comment when Kendall informed him he was changing into his Pjs. But after that, silence had descended over them, making the blond worry that cutting out the sex talk was a bad idea. Was that all there was to them? Insane chemistry and matching perverted minds?

No fucking way. Not only was the teen refusing to believe that, he was determined to make sure it wasn't true.

Although that being said...

"I have no clue," he responded, scratching his finally shaven jaw, watching his right leg wave back and forth, ankle on top of his bent left knee.

James laughed down the line, a mix of amusement and resolution. "_Okay then._"

They were so fucked.

Kendall's brow furrowed as his fingers played with the cuff of his Ozzy Osbourne pants. He needed to think up something for them to talk about, and fast. Hell, he was willing to talk about fucking school if it kept the other male on the phone.

"_Guess we could talk about our, ya know,_ feelings—" the brunet spoke the word as though he couldn't stand the entire concept of it "_—and open up like you want._"

"Yeah, I guess," the blond agreed, figuring the hippie share your feelings bullshit was better than nothing. "So," he started, digging the heel of his palm in his right eye before switching to a haughty accent, hoping to poke fun at the situation and make it light. "How do you feel?"

Only the singer didn't laugh, didn't play along. Instead, he remained silent for a long moment before speaking in a low, serious voice. "_Like I'm back at my therapist's._"

That had Kendall's eyes widening, hand jerking away from his face and hanging in mid-air. "You went to therapy?" He was almost in disbelief at that, but more surprised that the brunet had even admitted it, and so easily, too.

"_For a short time, yeah,_" the elder confessed, the younger lowering his hand to his stomach, hanging on every word. He knew how huge this was, what a turning point it was, how important it was, and was determined to keep fucking quiet so as not to ruin the whole thing. "_Until my mom decided that having a kid who needed a shrink was bad for her image._"

The blond's eyes drifted down, watching his fingers as they played with his t-shirt. He kept his voice low, hoping that if he spoke quiet enough, his words wouldn't scare the other male off and would keep him talking. "Why'd you need one?"

"_Because I was emotionally detached from everything and couldn't talk about my feelings,_" the brunet answered flatly, making the explanation seem all the more accurate. "_So I was forced to go see someone to actually talk about that shit._" A short, humorless gust of laughter left him. "_'Cause who needs logic, right?_"

"Did it work?"

The sound of fabric shuffling sounded out down the line, James fidgeting. "_For a while, but not much. If anything, I only ever talked about superficial basic emotions I was feeling with no real details or in-depth discussions about why or what it was that was causing it._"

Kendall nodded, working his bottom lip between his teeth, fingers still playing with his shirt. Seemed like things hadn't changed much there, the brunet still not fully opening up. Although that being said, this was a major fucking step in the right direction.

"And what are you feeling right now?" he questioned, dropping his right leg and laying both flat on the bed, stretched out in front of him, left ankle crossed over the right. "No pressure to give details."

"_Happy,_" he began, letting out a thoughtful sigh before continuing. "_Scared shitless. Worried, but strangely at peace. But mostly—_" He trailed off, silence descending over them once more.

It was a long moment before the teen broke it, feeling like if he didn't give the other male a push, he'd never finish his statement. "Mostly what?" he prompted, lump of nerves in his throat, fearful of what the conclusion would or could be. The possibilities were endless and his mind was doing its usual job of focusing on the negative ones.

"_Mostly,_" the brunet started and paused once again, this time finishing in his habitual low, reluctant voice. "_I miss you._"

Kendall felt his heart stop in his chest, stomach flipping double what it usually did. "Really?" he choked out before swallowing hard.

"_Yeah._"

His own voice took on the same tone and volume as the other male's as he let out a soft "I miss you, too."

"_Do me a favor,_" the elder male started, voice louder, more firm. "_Go to your window and look out it._"

The blond raised an eyebrow in confusion before dropping it a second later. A smirk formed on his face as he got up onto his knees and crossed over his bed to the right side, the side closest to the window. "Is this gonna be one of those cheesy ass fuckin' things where you tell me to look at the moon and that no matter where we are in the world, we're both looking at the same one?" he questioned, mattress creaking under his weight and movements.

There was silence on the other end of the line, James not uttering a word. Meaning that was definitely what he was gonna say.

The teen stepped onto the floor, bare feet padding softly on the short carpet as he stood there, amused laugh leaving him. "Holy shit. It is, isn't it?"

There was a slight hesitation, the sounds of fabric rustling, most likely the brunet shuffling around again. "_Shut up. It's not cheesy, it's sweet._"

"It's cheesy," the younger male argued.

"_It's romantic._"

"Cheeee-syy," he sing-songed as he smirked.

"_I don't hear you tryna be sweet or romantic. Gimme_ some_ credit here._"

The teen pursed his lips in consideration, heading over to his window. Pulling on the drawstring, he raised his blinds, staring out the glass at the half-full moon, seeing it shine brighter than ever.

Whoa, half-_full_? Since when was _he_ such an optimist?

'_Since James, moron._'

Despite the insult at the end, the thought brought a smile to his face.

Leaning his right side against the frame, he held his phone to his ear with his left hand, free arm folded over his chest, right ankle cross over his left one. "Okay, how 'bout this," he began, still smiling, head tilted down to stare at the ground a couple feet in front of him. "Put your fingers over your pulse."

"_Wait, what? Why?_"

"Just fuckin' do it, Diamond," he somewhat ordered, annoyance in his voice before he switched his phone to his right ear, left arm now the one over his torso.

A harsh sigh sounded down the phone line, an exacerbated "_fine_" soon following. "_Now what?_"

"Feel that?"

"_Feel what?_"

He rolled his green eyes as he lifted his head. "Your pulse, dumbass."

"_Obviously I feel it. You told me to put my fingers on it. Dumbass._" Kendall could practically hear the smirk in James' voice, knew the brunet was amused at himself, believed he was clever by recalling the blond's insult. Smug bastard.

The teen glared at the open closet across from him, seeing the unorganized mess the singer had commented on the night before, clothes shoved in wherever with no thought of whether it'd get wrinkled or if it was the right section. The younger male considered cleaning it out, creating some sorta order to it, but quickly shoved the thought aside, focusing on the conversation at hand instead.

"Don't get cocky," he requested into his phone, head slightly shaking, green eyes still narrowed.

"_You love when I'm cocky._"

Kendall rubbed his forehead with his left hand, trying to shove away the small amount of annoyance he was feeling, refusing to admit James was right. He dropped his hand, slapping it against his pajama clad thigh before putting in on his hip. "I'm tryna be romantic here and you're ruining it."

The singer replied with a "_sorry_" but the teen knew he didn't mean it, knew he was still smirking.

"Uh huh," the blond replied, not believing the brunet. "Anyway, where was I?"

"_My pulse. Which I can clearly feel._"

"Right." He nodded, ignoring the sarcasm, arm over his torso and his head tilted down once more. He didn't know what he was doing, where he was going with that thought, but decided to just go with it and hope for the best. "Just remember no matter what happens or how far apart we are, that pulse doesn't belong to _just_ you. It's also mine, 'cause no matter where you go in this world, you have a piece of my heart with you."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before James finally spoke. "_Wow. I._" He paused, cleared his throat, paused some more. "_I'm not sure what to say to that._"

Well, that kinda killed the mood, didn't it?

Kendall rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. It was a huge moment in his life, a huge confession he'd just made to the other male. For years, he'd refused to get close to anyone, refused to fall for anyone, but it was useless with James. The brunet bastard had snared the blond the second their eyes met at that first concert and the teen knew he'd been falling ever since. All that was left to do was to stop fighting and wait for the impact of the crash.

Which was apparently coming soon.

'Cause if Kendall knew James the way he thought he did, then the singer's silence at what the teen had said meant he was closing off, shutting down, getting ready to end the convo and hang up.

Unless the blond thought of a way to make him stay. And fast.

"Yeah, well, I—"

"_Kendall?_"

His green eyes closed at the sound of his name and the shaky way it was spoken, panic a heavy weight in his churning stomach.

'_Please don't say goodbye,_' he mentally pleaded. '_Please don't hang up._'

He swallowed hard against the nervousness, his own voice wavering as he spoke out "yeah?"

"_I need you,_" the singer admitted. "_Here. Now._"

The blond's eyes shot open. Definitely not the response he thought he'd be getting.

"_Tell me there's a way you can come here right this second._" His voice was needy, pleading, and the younger male knew that if he hadn't been leaning against the wall, he'd be on his ass on the ground that very moment, his knees having gone weak on him.

"Fuck," he breathed out harshly before speaking at a normal volume. "If I could get on a plane in the next ten seconds, I would."

"_Would you really?_" The brunet perked up, hope flooding every syllable as fabric shuffled in the background, sounding as if he was sitting up. "_If I could set it all up so you could fly to where I am right now, would you?_"

The teen didn't hesitate to answer. "In a fuckin' heartbeat."

"_Pack a bag. You're spending the weekend with me._"

Kendall's eyebrows shot up as he pushed himself away from the wall with his shoulder. "You're actually serious about this, aren't you?"

"_Yeah. Aren't you?_" The apprehension in the elder male's voice made the younger wanna punch something.

Perfectly normal reaction. Fitting in this perfectly normal situation.

"'Course I'm serious," he stated with conviction.

"_Then get packing,_" the singer halfway ordered, huge smile in his voice. "_And I'll get the ticket._"

A small laugh of disbelief left the younger male as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is crazy, you know that, right?" he commented before heading to his closet, thankful he'd kept his old hockey duffel, seeing it sitting unused on the top shelf.

"_Be crazy together, right?_"

A huge grin broke out over Kendall's face, hurting his features, hand on the bag. "Right."

"_See ya soon, cutie,_" James spoke before hanging up, not allowing the younger male to argue or yell about the term of endearment.

The blond snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in amusement before he slid his iPhone in his pocket and pulled his duffel down from the shelf. He shoved the annoyance at the pet name aside, deciding it didn't matter, that _nothing_ else mattered. He finally had the knowledge, the confirmation that he'd be seeing James face to face, something he'd been wondering and worrying about for—well, he lost track of how long. But not only did he know it was definitely happening, but it was gonna take place within a matter of hours.

He didn't think it was possible to smile as big as he was at that moment in time.


	22. Reunited And It Feels--No Too Cheesy

_**A/N: **__Okay, so I kept trying to work on this, but kept getting distracted and troll wars take a lotta time. That being said, hey, at least this is done before 2013 (at least here in my time zone) so Happy New Year's Present! :D_

_Don't think I need to put any warnings or ass coverings for this... um... I dunno, I'm brain-dead right now. Oh, forgive any typos or misused words, I was trying to distract my dog with fetch while proofreading so she'd leave me the hell alone and stop barking at me. Attention needy lil jerk._

_Anyhoo, enjoy and hope 2013 is good to you guys :D_

* * *

The flight. Took. Forever.

Okay, that's a lie. It was only about four hours to get from Minneapolis to San Diego, but it _felt_ like forever. Kendall figured it was due to the anxiety and excitement over what was gonna happen when he landed, having no clue what to expect. It could be a super romantic reunion like one of those cheesy chick flicks his mom liked for some unknown reason, where they ran into each other's arms and never let go. It could be awkward as fuck, neither of them knowing what to do or how to act. It could be a huge disaster and they waste the entire weekend yelling and arguing. Or it could be an explosion of pent up sexual frustration and they spent the whole time in bed acting out everything that had been spoken over the phone.

That last scenario had him shifting in his seat, pulling at jeans that had gotten tighter in the crotch. Thank fuck it was a late flight on a Thursday night—or early Friday morning technically—so the seats next to him were unoccupied. He didn't wanna even begin to imagine how uncomfortable it would be if he was hard next to a total stranger. Not that he _could_ imagine that if he had the urge to. His brain kept going through the various possibilities of what could happen when he saw James again. That, plus all the shit the singer had said he'd do to the blond.

Which just added to his arousal and made him harder. So he forced himself to think of something else, his mind choosing to focus on any negative reunion possibilities. Deciding to try and ignore that, too, Kendall tried to find something to listen to on his iPhone, not satisfied with anything, none of the songs in his library seeming to fit how he felt. He switched through various games, unable to focus or enjoy one for any prolonged period of time. He was anxious, ADD, agitated, and all he wanted to do was get to James. And soon.

When the plane _finally_ landed and his baggage had been claimed, Kendall looked around, trying to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do next. The only info he'd been given was about the flight itself, what time it would be leaving, when he'd be arriving and where. Other than that, nada.

He put his hand on the strap of his duffel as it lay over his shoulder, letting out a sigh, figuring that standing by the luggage conveyer wasn't gonna get shit done, other than make his feet hurt and his legs tired. Taking one last look around at the passengers gathering their things and the people there to greet them, he walked over towards the exit in hopes of finding out what the fuck he was supposed to do. A few feet later, and he figured it out.

Logan walked through the sliding doors, looking around, stopping when his brown eyes came across Kendall. A relieved sigh seemed to leave him, shoulders slumping, small smile forming on his face as he lifted his hand to wave.

The blond raised his fingers from around his duffel strap in response, walking over to where the other male stood. He shouldn't really be surprised that James had sent his best friend-slash-personal assistant to pick him up. Would be pretty fucking suspicious for the pop star to show up himself to take another guy back to his hotel room, especially considering how online social media sites already were abuzz when it came to anything related to the blond being around the brunet. If any paps or fans happened to be around to see the two of them together, it would start a rumor wildfire that no PR company would be able to extinguish.

And, let's face it, there was no way to know exactly what would happen when the two of them were reunited again. The make-out session in the dressing room a couple weeks ago was bad enough, and that was before all the calls and the amped up sexual tension that was so thick Kendall could practically feel it, even down the phone line. Things were clearly gonna be worse between them, more hyped up, more intense, more...everything really. So clearly it was safer for them to not meet back up in a public place, or else they'd both end up behind bars for public indecency.

And wouldn't _that_ just make for great publicity?

He finally reached Logan, the two of them exchanging "hey"s before standing there awkwardly, neither knowing what to say. Right before Kendall asked if they could just fucking leave already so he could get to James, the shorter male spoke.

"Got all your luggage?"

"Yeah," the blond replied, patting his duffel for emphasis before holding onto the strap again.

The brunet nodded, rubbed the back of his neck, cleared his throat, dropped his hand. "Ready to go then?"

Seriously?

"Yup." He tried to hide his disbelief, his agitation, his anxiousness to just get going, but probably failed. Not that he gave a shit.

More nodding from Logan before he turned around and headed towards the door, Kendall following. They were silent as they crossed the road, passing cabs waiting for fares, cars waiting for passengers, traffic that was waiting for them to move. The brunet led the way to a parked sedan, all black, tinted windows, clearly a rental chosen for its privacy to escort James wherever he needed to go while in town. Or to escort Kendall to wherever the singer was, in this case.

Logan opened the trunk, allowing the blond to put his duffel in, before they both got in the car, the brunet behind the wheel. More silence as they pulled out the lot, out the airport, and onto the highway. There were very few cars, not much of a surprise considering the sun was barely beginning to rise behind them, allowing them to drive at a good speed and not worry about traffic.

Although why the guy was actually doing the speed limit on the highway was beyond Kendall.

"So," the elder male started, the younger withholding a groan, not in the mood for conversation. "What exactly is going on between you and James?"

The blond's eyebrows went up, lips pursing in thought. It was a damn fine question, one he had no answer for, or any clue where to start when it came to explaining it. Because he had no fucking clue himself. "I dunno," he answered honestly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that's what we're gonna figure out this weekend."

Logan nodded, hands on ten and two on the steering wheel, eyes glued to the windshield. "Ya know, I've known James since we were five," he began, pausing as he hit the indicator, turning his head around to check his blind spots.

Kendall dropped his hand onto his lap, right forearm laying across the door below the window, head turned towards the other male. He knew _exactly_ what was coming next, _exactly_ what the elder male was about to say.

Pulling into the right lane, the brunet continued his thought. "Since he saved me from these bullies on the playground during recess who constantly picked on me for being a nerd and being able to read, even in kindergarten. He's protected me my entire life from jerks who'd try to give me wedgies and swirlies and things of that nature, so needless to say, the two of us are pretty close."

"And now it's _your_ turn to protect _him_," the blond summed up, eyes on the other male as he focused on the road once again.

He nodded, hands gripping the wheel, spine stiffened and body tense, almost like he truly was ready to punch Kendall if the blond dared say the wrong thing. The taller male was halfway tempted to say something stupid just to see if the shorter one would actually do it, if he was capable of violence, and how weak a hit it would be. Would be amusing.

But he knew how important it was to impress the best friend of the guy you were into, remembered how Carlos had dumped a guy he'd been into for months solely because Kendall had mentioned how terrible the dude's jokes were and how annoying he was, how bad he got on the blond's nerves. If he fucked things up with Logan, he knew without a doubt James would hear all about it and stop talking to him right then and there and he'd been on his way back to Minnesota with nothing to show but another break in his heart and bigger abandonment issues than before.

Whoo-fucking-pee.

"Look," he started, letting out a sigh as he put his right hand on his lap and turned in his seat to face Logan more. "I know that you don't know me and you have no reason to trust me or believe me when I tell you that the last thing I wanna do is hurt James or use him in any way. I don't give a shit about his money or his fame or his name. I don't give a shit about the spotlight or the popularity, cause I sure as fuck don't want it for myself. The only thing I want is to just get to know James as a regular dude, that's it."

Logan actually managed to take his eyes off the road, looking at Kendall for a long moment, eyes analytical, suspicious, like he was looking for any sign of dishonesty or bullshit. And the blond knew there wouldn't be any found, knew that he'd spoken the truth, that he'd meant every syllable. He just had to hope that the other male could see it.

Which he apparently did, judging by the fact that he was fucking nodding again as he turned back to the windshield, making the younger male wonder if the elder was part bobblehead or some shit. Or capable of actually _speaking_ a response, of using his voice instead of head motions. Whatever. Logan's habits weren't exactly anything he cared about or wanted to know. His focus was elsewhere, but not on the scenery that was rushing by as he stared out the side window.

The car ride seemed to take as long as the one on the plane, Kendall nearly yelling out a "thank fuck!" when the vehicle pulled into a space in a parking lot outside a hotel. But it couldn't be helped. His heart was pounding out of control, stomach flipping wildly, his skin tingling. His anxiety was amped up, out of control, and he fought the urge to jump out the car and run up to James' room, mainly because he had no clue which room the singer was in. Kinda put a huge hole in that plan.

So instead, he remained as cool on the outside as humanly possible, calmly getting out the car and waiting patiently by the trunk, needing the other male to pop it open for him so he could get his duffel out. When that was done, he followed the brunet across the lot and into the hotel, over to the elevators and up, up, up to the correct floor.

The doors slid open and Logan once again took the lead, the two of them taking a left, then another, heading down the hall. With each step, Kendall's anxiousness got worse, his heart in his throat, his pulse out of control, his stomach flipping so much he was getting seasick. He could barely breathe, his lungs frozen in his chest, the only air being exhaled in a long, slow breath through 'o' shaped lips.

It got worse when he saw Freight Train.

The bodyguard was parked outside one of the rooms, seated on a chair that was holding his weight solely through a minor miracle, arms folded over his chest, mean look on his face. Kendall figured he was outside James' room, since it was his job to protect the singer from any danger. Would make sense that he'd be parked on the external side of the pop star's door. Which meant the blond was only a few yards away from the male he'd been longing to see for weeks now.

'_Don't puke,_' he mentally told himself. '_Puking would not be cool right now._'

Freight Train rose to his feet when he saw Kendall and Logan approach, his face changing from hardass motherfucker, to nice friendly guy in a heartbeat.

"Hey, Kendall," he greeted the blond as the two other males stopped in front of him. "Nice to see you again."

The younger male still couldn't get over how the guy's voice totally didn't match his appearance, seeming a little too high pitched for a dude that size. Then again, Mike Tyson had a lisp but could put you in a coma with one hit.

"Yeah, man, you, too," Kendall replied, shaking the larger male's outstretched hand.

"How's your sister?"

Jesus fucking Christ, was everyone in the mood for conversating with him? Because he sure as shit wasn't, not when he was so fucking close to what he truly wanted.

But knowing that the bodyguard could stop him from entering the room—not to mention lay his ass out flat with one blow—kept his attitude in check and his response polite, a simple "she's good, thanks" as he put on a small smile, trying to hide his impatience and not entirely sure if he was doing the job.

"Tell her I said hi for me."

He nodded, trying to figure out how exactly he was gonna do that, how he was gonna explain to a twelve year old that he had flown across the country to visit with a pop star that he'd secretly been chatting with after telling her nothing was going on and that his bodyguard said hi.

Shit. His mom was gonna flip a bitch when she found out.

Whatever, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it. There was more important shit to deal with.

Like getting everyone to shut the fuck up and let him into that fucking room already.

"James still in?" Logan questioned, drawing Kendall's attention back to the present and not whatever hypothetical freak out his mom would engage in when she learned he had just taken off in the middle of the night. Again.

Freight Train nodded, arms folded over his chest, face all business once again. "He's been pacing about, popped his head out a few times. I told him he needed to stay in the room and I'd send you guys in as soon as you got here. I guess you'd better go before he wears a hole through the floor."

The brunet smirked, letting out a small laugh at his best friend's behavior as he shook his head, while the blond's own internal spazz out got worse. If he didn't know any better, it sounded like James was just as anxious to see him as he was to see the pop star.

Fucking hell, he needed in that room.

A few more words were exchanged between Logan and Freight Train, the bodyguard giving a "see ya later" to Kendall, who just tipped his chin up in response. Then finally, fucking _finally_, the door to the hotel room was opened.

Logan entered first, followed by Kendall, who adjusted his strap as he walked through the portal, the door closing over behind him. His green eyes searched the room, barely seeing the expensive furniture, the cream couches and wooden furniture, the fancy art that he never really understood or appreciated. But the green orbs stopped roaming when they came across something he _did_ appreciate, did wanna continue looking at.

James stood in the middle of the room, fingers combing his hair, something Kendall figured was a nervous habit. And goddamn if he didn't look better than the last time the blond had seen him. It wasn't anything all that different from what the younger male had seen before, the same tight jeans and graphic tee, the same black bandana around his wrist, the same hairstyle. And okay, maybe the scruff on his face was more prevalent than before, whiskers a lil longer, but that wasn't what made him seem better—as sexy as it was. Kendall couldn't fully put his finger on it, couldn't fully figure it out. He knew it wasn't just one thing that made the singer more attractive, more appealing. He figured it was probably just that whole "absence makes the heart grow fonder" bullshit, that the belief the other male was hotter was due to the relief and the joy of finally being able to see him in person once more.

The smile that spread across James' face as his hand dropped to his side definitely helped the physical appeal though, the way his eyes seemed to light up and his whole face glowed. And it was because he was looking at Kendall, the thought of that fact making the blond's heart pound double time and his stomach to flip even more than before.

"Kendall." God his name was fucking awesome. "Hey."

The younger male smiled back, almost unable to believe that he'd heard the singer speaking to him in person, that there was no static muffling things, no weird pixelated images accompanying it. Just James, in the flesh, right in front of Kendall.

"Hey." His voice was quiet, but spoke volumes and they both knew it. Neither spoke, neither moved, both just relished in the fact that they were actually in the same room once again, the anticipation of crossing the few feet of distance between them an overwhelming feeling.

But something held Kendall in place, something stopped him from walking over, from closing that distance and just grabbing hold of the elder male, from kissing him until neither could breathe, from taking the pop star to the closest piece of furniture and getting them both naked and moaning. Although he'd be damned if he knew what that thing was, since he was still half-hard from x-rated thoughts he'd been stuck in on the airplane.

"Uh, James?" Logan spoke up, reminding the blond of why he was staying put, drawing the pop star's attention over to him. "Can I have a minute of your time?"

The taller male turned to the teen, mouth open, but obviously unsure what to say, how to tell a guy who'd just shown up that he needs to leave again. So Kendall gave him an out.

"Where's the bathroom?"

James looked relieved that he no longer had to deal with that issue, using his thumb to point to a set of double-doors on his right. "Through there. You can drop your bag off in there, too."

The blond nodded, giving a look to Logan that said the assistant could go ahead with whatever he needed to say, that the newly arrived male wouldn't eavesdrop or spy or whatever. With one last glance at the singer, Kendall headed to the doors he'd been pointed towards, entering the other room and shutting the door behind himself.

The chamber was clearly the bedroom of James' suite, a swanky looking one at that. Across from the double-doors was a huge ass bed with a million pillows and a thick comforter that Kendall wouldn't mind having in his room back home. Which was maybe half the size of this one.

Walking to the left, he dropped his duffel onto the ground before walking into the fancy ass bathroom. He let out a wolf whistle, impressed as hell, thinking he'd been right when he figured James lived a pretty sweet life.

He did his business, managing to actually pee with a chubby—always a pain in the ass—before washing his hands. After drying them, he took a look at himself in the mirror, taking in his appearance.  
He smoothed down his Bleed the Dream tee, adjusted his jeans as they hung low on his hips, stopped when he realized he was doing that girly bullshit again. Then he fixed his beanie.

Figuring that he was looking as good as he was ever gonna look, he quit his ministrations, switching the light off as he left the bathroom. He slowly approached the double-doors that led back to the external part of the suite, hearing a reminder about a radio interview and a "yeah yeah" before the hallway door closed. Meaning Logan was gone.

Opening the door, Kendall left the bedroom, finding James where he had been before, in the middle of the room facing the hall door. The singer's head turned towards him, smile returning, eyes bright.

"Hey."

Kendall smiled back, couldn't help it. "Hey."

Silence descended over them as they both struggled to figure out what to do or say next, James once again being the one to do so.

"How was your flight?"

Kendall cocked an eyebrow, unable to believe that was what the singer had come up with, that he seriously wanted to discuss that. "You really wanna talk about my flight?"

The brunet let out a small laugh, smirking. "Not really."

"Good, 'cause it was boring as fuck." A lie, but who gave a shit? Didn't really matter. The only thing that mattered about the ride on the plane was where it brought him, who it brought him to.

But he still wasn't fully there, wasn't fully with the other male, the two remaining unmoving and unspeaking once again, in another limbo of what to do next, knowing that what they most wanted to do more than anything would change things, not only between the two of them, but for their lives in general. It was scary, anxiety-ridden, nerve-wracking, and as badly as Kendall wanted one of them to finally locate their balls and make a fucking move, he wasn't entirely sure if that was a good idea or not.

James let out a muffled "fuck it" before walking over, Kendall staying put, anticipating the singer's next move. The brunet took hold of the blond's face, crashing their lips together and slamming him against the wall in the same move, their bodies pressed together. A gasp left the younger male at the hard contact of his back hitting the plaster behind him, the elder taking advantage and sliding his tongue in the other male's mouth. The wet muscle started a battle with the other's, Kendall's hands going to James' lower back to move his pelvis closer, thrusting his own hips out and allowing the elder male to feel his dick hardening.

The singer pulled away, breathing out a "fuck", eyes slightly dazed as they fought to focus on the teen's.

"Please do."

It was just like before in the dressing room, but this time, instead of running, James just nodded emphatically before reconnecting their lips in another frenzied kiss. Lips slotted together, tongues pushed and pulled, hips ground against one another as a chorus of harsh breathing and low moans filled the air around them. Kendall found himself growing desperate, needy, moving against the other male with more force, making damn sure he could feel how hard he was. The blond had never been more turned on in his life, a sexual need so deep he could feel it in his bones.

James' hands went to the bottom of the teen's shirt, lifting it up and over his head, throwing it away to wherever, inadvertently knocking the blond's beanie off with it. Kendall returned the favor and relieved the singer of his own tee, dropping it to the ground before their lips reconnected. The blond wrapped his arms the other male's neck, fingers threading through brunet locks, pressing his body against a wider frame and pushing the singer back.

They somehow managed to stumble their way to the couch, managed to get around it and to the front, the singer sitting on it in a somewhat slouched position with the teen straddling his lap. The younger male took advantage of his new position, grinding down hard, rubbing their erections together to create the perfect kind of friction between them.

"Fuck, Kendall," the brunet breathed out harshly, breaking their kiss. "Don't fucking stop."

"Wasn't planning to," the blond replied, head spinning, chest rising and falling rapidly.

James grabbed hold of the long hair at the back of Kendall's head, pulling on it so the blond had no choice but to tilt it back. His eyes drifted closed as he let out a deep groan, the sensation heading straight to his dick, feeling even more glad that he never listened to his mom when she told him to trim it. The sentiment grew when he felt the brunet start sucking and nipping at his adam's apple, retching more moans from the younger male.

Kendall's hands drifted down James' smooth chest, settling on hardened nipples that he started rubbing. The elder male stopped sucking on the younger's throat, letting out groans of his own as his hips bucked up even more and his grip on Kendall's blond locks loosened.

The blond smirked as he lowered his head, seeing the dazed expression on the other male's face, the arousal in half-lidded dark eyes. "Seems like I found someone's weak spot," he commented, voice full of cockiness as he pinched the singer's nipples.

James breathed out a "fuck", eyes widening, pelvis completely leaving the couch. A second later, when his ass was back on the cream cushion, he glared at the other male. "Just give it time. I'll find the rest of yours."

The teen raised an eyebrow, face full of disbelief. "The rest?"

"Yeah. Clearly already found one." His smirk was pure egotism as he tugged Kendall's hair again.

The blond groaned like before, lips parted as his jaw went slack and his eyes went wide, hips grinding down on the other male's harder. "Shut up and do me already," he ordered, grabbing the elder male's face and crashing their lips together.

Their kiss was hard, heated, teeth clashing and nipping, lips sucked and bitten, tongues swirling and making a mess. But neither male cared, just kept fighting for control, pelvises grinding wildly.

James shifted, sitting up, seeming to want to flip them over, but Kendall wasn't having any of it. After all the phone calls and x-rated thoughts in his head during the plane ride, not to mention the way the singer's mouth worked against his and his fingers pulled his hair, the teen was so close to coming already, with the elder male's hands not even touching him below his waist. He wasn't about to move or change positions for anything, not when his orgasm was _right there_. So he leaned forward, pressing all his body weight on the slightly larger male and pushing him back against the couch, putting his arms on the back of the sofa to try and trap the brunet.

James broke the kiss, glaring at the younger male. "Oh fuck that," he practically growled, face as dark as his eyes. Putting both hands on the smaller male's hips, he easily lifted him and flipped them over, laying Kendall on the couch before settling between his legs. "_I'm_ in charge."

And damn if that didn't make the younger shudder in arousal.

The elder smirked, a mix of cockiness and just flat out being pleased, thumb rubbing along the blond's hip bone as it lay exposed by his low jeans. "Like that, huh? Like me being in charge?" He ground his hips down for emphasis, causing the teen to groan and lift his own pelvis up, only to be shoved back down again.

"Uh huh." The blond's voice was weak, as strained as his breathing, his lungs fighting to work properly. His brain had shut down a while ago, all the blood having rushed to his dick, which was harder than he thought possible. He was aching, balls drawn up tight, his body ready to explode but needing that final push to make it happen.

James' smirk remained, his head moving alongside the other male's, cheeks rubbing together, allowing Kendall to feel the scruff of a few missed days of shaving. The singer kept up his grinding, his hands gripping the younger male's hips, his breathing harsh in the teen's ear. "You want me to order you around? Tell you what to do? Command you?"

The blond groaned even louder, head tilting back as his hands went to the brunet's back, gripping onto smooth skin and hard muscle. His hips tried to fight against the other male's hold, desperate for release, desperate for more of that friction the singer was creating, breathing coming out in short little spurts.

"Fuck. Please," he panted out, eyes half closed, struggling to remain open. "So close."

"Yeah? You gonna come?"

He nodded rapidly, another weak "uh huh" escaping past parted lips, fingers grabbing at the slick skin of the other male's back, feeling the muscles flex with every movement.

James lifted his head, hazel eyes locking with green ones, his hips moving harder, faster, with more intent. "C'mon, Kendall," he breathed out against the younger male's lips, rubbing their noses together. "Lemme see you fall apart." He moved his right arm so it was laying on the couch, his hand sliding under teen's head and taking hold of his hair, tugging on it once more.

It was the final push Kendall needed, his eyes widening as he called out a "fuck, James!" He could feel his dick twitch in his boxers as his come spurted out, soaking the dark fabric, staining them. Not that he gave a shit. His body was tense and relaxed at the same time, his mind blown even more than before as his heart stopped and his lungs damn near collapsed.

And that was without having James even touch him.

The singer kept up his motions, making sure to prolong the teen's orgasm, letting out a moan of his own as he watched the other male fall apart in front of him. And as Kendall's breathing returned to normal, his body returned to earth, one thing came to mind: James hadn't come yet.

In a sudden burst of energy, he placed his hands on the elder male's chest, pushing the other male up and back so he was stuck between the back of the couch and the arm, body halfway laying, right leg on the ground. Kendall had moved with him, keeping as much contact between their bodies as possible, slamming his lips against the James' as he settled between the singer's legs. This kiss was just as hard as before, loud smacking lips, sloppy motions, harsh breathing, more heated motions than actual finesse or skill.

The blond's hands slipped down the brunet's torso, working the button of the singer's jeans through the hole, lowering the zipper. Their lips parted, foreheads pressed together, breath mingling as their eyes locked and their chests heaved. The younger male took hold of the elder's jeans, pushing down, wordlessly asking if it was okay. James nodded, bucking his hips slightly in his own silent ascension.

Using his nose, Kendall tapped at the other male's chin, tilting his head back. He attached his lips to the elder's throat, sucking his adam's apple, licking at the hollow of his collarbone, sliding a hand inside the singer's boxers. A gasp came from between James' lips, his hips bucking at the contact as the younger male wrapped his fingers around the singer's cock.

"Fuck, your skin is rough," the elder male commented, head tilted against the back of the couch.

"Hockey and guitar," the younger stated without thinking, his lips moving along the other male's collarbone, hand slowly stroking up and down.

James let out a small whine, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he started moving his hips in rhythm with the blond's motions. "You still—fuck—you still gotta. Play for me."

Kendall smirked, moving down between the brunet's pecs, heading towards one of his nipples. "You still gotta mark me." He closed his lips around one of the hardened nubs, sucking hard, causing a long, loud groan to come from the singer's chest up through his throat. The elder's ass practically left the couch again, head slamming back even more against the cushion, when the younger bit it.

"Shit!" James called out, panting, fingers of one hand tangling in Kendall's hair as the other gripped the arm of the settee, hips lowering back down. "Ah, fuck, Kendall. Suck me."

The blond smirked, moving over to bite the other male's nipple and retching out another whine-turned-groan, before kissing his way down the middle of the singer's torso as he slid down onto the floor between the elder's legs. Nibbling the brunet's lower abdomen, Kendall worked the jeans and boxer briefs down some, pulling James' hard cock out. The organ was bright red, angry looking, the crown glistening with precome that had already been smeared around it. Rather than waste time to actually visually take in the full look, or appreciate the fact that he was finally able to see the dick that he'd been imagining was driving into him for months, Kendall cut to the chase and wrapped his lips around the head.

A small gasp of sorts left James' parted lips, the teen looking up to see the singer's eyes fixated on him. The blond lowered his head down, taking more of him in, not stopping until he felt the tip hit the back of his throat. He didn't hesitate to pull back to the head, sucking hard, wrapping his hand around the shaft before taking it in his mouth once more. His head and hand moved in sync, bobbing up and down the singer's dick, a mix of sucking and stroking. He twisted his hand, his head, starting up a rhythm that was clearly being enjoyed by the elder male, judging by the reactions.

James' breathing was out of control, exhales practically moans, his chest rising and falling at a harsh and rapid rate. His stomach was clenching, hips bucking, fingers tight in Kendall's hair, tugging and making the blond moan.

"Ah, shit!" the singer called out, head falling back. "So fuckin' close."

The teen didn't comment, just watched as the elder male lifted his head back up, saw the way his teeth sank into his own bottom lip. He kept up his ministrations, working the singer's dick in and out of his mouth, sucking, licking, moaning. He could practically feel the other male getting close, feel his balls draw up tight, feel the cock in his mouth twitching more.

The brunet's breathing was harsher than before, shallow pants and whines before he let out a "shit, fuck, Kendall!" That was all the warning the blond got, just enough for him to be able to pull back so only the head remained in his mouth. James completely let go, his come spurting into Kendall's mouth, hitting the back of his throat as the younger male tried to swallow as quickly as possible. He sucked it all down, kept working him with his hand for a few strokes more as he pulled his mouth away and licked him clean. The pop star breathed hard, a satisfied laugh leaving him as he smiled widely, letting out a pleased groan immediately after.

Sitting back on his heels, the teen released the singer's softening cock, seeing it lay on the other male's flat abdomen. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, a little sore from being stretched, but nothing he couldn't handle. Worth it really to see that dazed look on the elder male's face and knowing that he'd put it there.

"Wow," James commented, hand finally releasing the couch arm, going up to finger-comb his bangs. "You are so doing that again."

Kendall's lips twitched in a half-cocked smirk, a dimple forming in his cheek. "Only if you return the favor."

The singer smirked back, leaning forward. "Not a problem," he stated, wrapping a hand around the back of the teen's neck and bringing him closer so their lips could connect. But unlike their other kisses, this one was slower, less heated or sloppy, but no less intense in the feelings it created inside of the younger male.

Until a phone beeped loudly.

James groaned as he pulled away and sat back on the couch. "Who the fuck am I killing now?" he muttered, pulling his iPhone out his jean pocket. "Logan, of course." He rolled his eyes as he looked at the screen, sliding his finger on it as he seemed to check a text. "We gotta go in five minutes."

Kendall nodded, mind going back to the small snippet of conversation he'd overheard earlier. "Radio interview, right?"

Putting his phone to the side, the brunet put his cock back in his boxer briefs, re-doing his pants as he spoke. "Yeah. I got a buncha shit I need to do today, so we might not be alone as much as we want."

The blond shrugged as he rose to his feet, standing in front of the other male. "Doesn't matter. At least we can be together at all, right?"

Looking up at the younger male, the elder smiled widely, that twinkle back in his eyes. "Yeah." He stood up, putting his hands on the blond's bare hips, pecking his lips. "You might wanna get changed though. Sure your boxers can't feel too comfortable right now."

In all honesty, Kendall hadn't really thought about it, his mind distracted with other thoughts concerning getting James off. But now that he was made aware of it...

He squirmed, feeling the wetness against his cock, knowing the discomfort would grow when it dried. "Good idea."

James smiled, kissing the teen's nose before giving a slap to his ass. "Go get changed. I'll tell Logan we'll be down soon."

Kendall nodded, walking over to the bedroom door, picking up his discarded tee and beanie from the floor before heading inside. He went straight to his duffel, crouching down and unzipping it, grabbing the first pair of boxers he could find. Only to put them back to search for a particular pair, smirk forming on his face when he pulled out the black boxers with the skull on the ass.


	23. Radio Killed Relationship With Pop Star

_**A/N: **__I HAVE to start off by giving a HUGE shout out to my homie Linda (rockchickwrites/blogs/doesawesomethings) for the AMAZING gifset she made for this. Seriously, made my fucking life. I look at it when I'm sad or need motivation to write. Love it. Love you. Love love love :D_

_Secondly, we're due to get a crazy ass storm and my parents are pretty much convinced the power is gonna go out, but I keep getting distracted by the hilarious mental image of what "thunder snow" is. Convinced it's a Scandinavian death metal band._

_Third, my dad poured caramel syrup over the top of the bacon he's drying. It seems strange..._

_Fourth, I am just putting such random shit here and I am so sorry._

_Fifth, ass covering about iPhone, which I still do not own, although I now have an iPod! Yay Santa! Also, I know zero DJs or radio stations in San Diego and am too lazy to look any up, so for this it's just a nameless DJ dude at a nameless station. Deal with it._

_I'm off to hang out with my bestie Lennay Kukoa (points if you get the reference). Have a Palm Woods Day! :D_

* * *

It took only a couple minutes for Kendall to get changed, washing up with one of the hand towels provided by the hotel that he wet in the sink, feeling a lil bummed that he wouldn't get to see the maid pick it up or witness her reaction. Assuming she'd know what was on it. Fresh boxers and new jeans on, he left the bed, heading into the living area and seeing that Logan and Freight Train were now in the room, the short brunet constantly checking his watch, as James stood across the room fixing his hair in the mirror. The singer's hazel eyes came across the teen's green ones, a small smile forming on both their faces, a silent smirk over the moments they'd just shared and what they had just done.

But when the pop star turned around, the smile was gone, the light in his eyes that had spoken of that secret moment they'd just shared missing. His face was back to that expressionless mask he wore when hiding shit, when he didn't wanna talk about something personal or too deep. The blond figured the brunet didn't want his best friend or bodyguard knowing what had just transpired between the two of them, although the loud moans and swears probably gave that away, especially if Freight Train had still been stationed outside the room. Totally not awkward at all.

Deciding to just let it go, Kendall walked over to where Logan and Freight Train were standing and chatting, James soon joining the group.

"We're stopping by a Starbucks, right?" the pop star questioned, interrupting the conversation that had already been taking place. "Cause if I hafta be up at five am for a radio interview, then I need some fuckin' caffeine."

Logan rolled his eyes, not chastising his friend for butting in and being rude, seeming like he was used to it. "You'd been up all night so having a five am wake up call isn't exactly a big deal."

Kendall cocked an eyebrow as he turned to the taller brunet, tryna gauge a reaction on another emotionless mask, finding a small, strange comfort in the fact that the other male had been up all night,too. Had to mean something, right?

James didn't comment on what his best friend had pointed out, instead going back to his original inquiry. "Starbucks? Yes? No? I'm thinking it's a yes."

The shorter male just sighed, resolution on his face. "Yeah, sure. We'll use the drive-thru on the way there."

"Sweet!" the singer exclaimed, smile on his face, seeming pretty damn excited about the prospect of getting some caffeine in his system.

Another Logan eye roll before he asked if everyone was ready to go, James looking at Kendall, who nodded, before giving his friend a "yes". Freight Train led the way to the main door, the shorter brunet following. The blond did the same, feeling a hand pressed to the small of his back, knowing it was James, the corner of his lips curving up.

Only to have the hand move away when he reached the door.

"There's cameras in the hallways, aren't there?" he double-checked, eyebrow cocked as he looked at the back of his assistant's head.

Logan stopped in the hallway, turning to look at the pop star. "Yeah. And in the elevators, too. So unless you're ready to make a big announcement-" he trailed off, letting the rest of his statement hang in the air to be completed by everyone else's imagination.

Kendall turned his head to look at James, seeing the pop star raise his eyebrows before putting that mask back in place. The singer swallowed hard, nodding as he finger-combed his hair.

"Got it," he replied before dropping his hand, shoving both in the pockets of his jeans, turning to the blond as he did so. "Uh, yeah, we're gonna hafta cool it in public."

Kendall nodded, small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It's cool. I get it."

An appreciative smile was on the pop star's face as he met the teen's eyes, hand touching between the younger male's shoulders. "Thanks."

The smaller male nodded some more, watching as the elder left the room, following him out. A small sadness hit him, a minor upset feeling over the fact that he was finally around the guy he wanted but couldn't actually do anything with him. Not in public anyway. Not without the entire fucking world and their mom finding out. And okay, he totally understood why, totally got the reasoning behind it. The two of them holding hands or kissing out in the open was clearly a blatant sign that the singer was gay-or at least bi-something he clearly wasn't ready to come out with. And Kendall himself wasn't exactly ready to explain what the hell was going on to his baby sister, not to mention the epic freak out his mom would have.

Not that she wasn't already gonna have one, but clearly her son going across the country to hook up with a male singer wasn't gonna make her any less calm or understanding.

But despite all that, he couldn't help but feel like he was being hidden, that the singer just flat out didn't want the world to be made aware that he knew the blond, that the pop star was ashamed of him. Which was bullshit, just past insecurities coming back and fucking with him once again. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

The group made their way out the hotel and into a limo that was waiting outside. Logan got in first, sliding down the seat that ran along the side of the limo opposite the door. Kendall got in next, followed by Freight Train, who somehow managed to get his large frame in and beside Logan. James was last, sitting next to Kendall on the backseat. The driver shut the door and in a matter of a few seconds, they were on their way.

"I already talked to the station," Logan started, iPhone in his hands, eyes on the singer. "They know not to ask about anything regarding your personal life but-" He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders in a "what can you do?" kinda way.

"But they're gonna do it anyway," James finished, fingers combing through his hair.

The assistant nodded, letting out a sigh. "And our current situation isn't exactly gonna help things."

"Current situation?" Kendall questioned, not exactly cool with the way the shorter brunet's eyes had shifted over to him when he'd said those words.

"He means you showing up," the pop star clarified, pretty much voicing what the teen had been thinking.

The blond nodded, swallowing hard as he looked at the carpeted floor of the limo, brow furrowed in worry and focus. The last thing he wanted was to make shit complicated, to fuck things up for James or his career. Obviously he hadn't thought shit through when he hopped on that plane and flew to Cali, hadn't given a second's consideration over the consequences of his actions, only thinking about the fact that he'd soon be reunited with the elder male. But now that he had been, now that his brain was _actually_ capable of thinking of something else, he wondered if the whole thing was a mistake and what damage could be done during the weekend.

"Hey," the singer's voice was low, drawing the teen's head and attention to him. His eyes were as sincere as his words, clearly meaning everything he was saying. "Don't worry about it. It's nothing I can't handle."

A hand was placed on Kendall's knee, his head tilting down to look at it. But before he could fully relish in the comfort that small simple touch brought, James removed it, his throat clearing, his eyes holding an apology that quickly disappeared. Without hesitation, the blond took hold of the brunet's hand and put it back on his thigh, covering it with his own to keep it in place.

Hazel eyes were wide, unsure as they locked onto green ones before darting over to look at Logan and Freight Train, who were busy discussing whatever the fuck they talked about. James turned back to Kendall, his hand turning over and his fingers lacing with the teen's, a small, slightly nervous smile on the singer's face. The younger male gave the elder's fingers a squeeze, reassuring him that all was okay, despite the fact that internally, he was freaking the fuck out. He was _actually_ holding the singer's hand again, properly, fingers tangled, wrists together so they could feel each other's out of control pulses, that spark still there and passing between them. It definitely hadn't been the lights or the stage or the song. It was them, a true connection that was as real as they were and not a fabrication of the circumstances surrounding them.

That thought in mind, Kendall leaned over and pressed his lips to the elder male's, wordlessly speaking what he'd just figured out, feeling the brunet kiss him back.

Until an authoritative throat clearing killed the moment.

James froze, not just the actions of his lips against Kendall's, but his entire body. He had gone completely rigid, tense, like someone had hit his off switch. And the metaphor seemed all the more fitting when the pop star pulled away and the teen got a good look at the expressionless mask that had been put back in place, emotions shut down once again, his face showing nothing but perfect skin and eyelashes that didn't seem to belong on a guy but made sense on him.

One step forward, two steps back, that all too familiar tango. And Kendall still hated dancing.

Turning his head, the blond looked to the source of the incredibly unwelcome interruption, seeing Logan staring at him and James, a pointed look on his face, one full of disapproval and disbelief and a whole lotta other dis-words. He was clearly gonna be fun to hang out with while James was busy doing pop star shit.

The singer gave a nod of acknowledgment to his assistant, wordlessly saying he understood what the shorter male was silently saying. He slid over on the seat, moving away from the blond, pulling his hand away, right arm resting on the door, chin in his hand as he stared out the window.

A sigh left the blond as he turned his head to look out his own window, silence descending over the passengers in the limo, a chill hitting the youngest. He knew distance would be the best idea, would be wise in order to continue the cover of James being straight and nothing happening between him and the teen, considering how they could barely seem to be in the same room without their lips becoming attached, like magnets constantly drawn together. But that didn't mean Kendall was entirely okay with it, that he didn't have an issue with the brunet so easily moving away and essentially rejecting him. Once again he tried convincing himself it was just past issues and insecurities coming back and fucking with his head in the present and once again he barely succeeded in believing himself.

The rest of the ride was silent, the only words spoken being drink orders at Starbucks, and soon the limo pulled up at the radio station, idling outside the main entrance. James took a deep breath, seeming to steady himself, putting a smile on his face. Kendall figured it was due to all the fans outside, that the singer had to maintain an image of being perpetually happy and that all was perfect in his world. The blond had spent countless hours staring at pics of the pop star, pretty much becoming an expert in the brunet's smile, able to tell when he was faking it. Like he was at that moment.

Freight Train exited the limo first, surveying the area and scoping it out. Apparently there was no immediate danger since he signaled to James that all was well and the singer got out. He smiled and waved, putting on a show, walking over to the waiting fans to give hugs and autographs.

Kendall scooted over, ready to get out himself, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he came face to face with a stern looking Logan, resisting the urge to tell the smaller male to just shove his upcoming lecture up his ass and let him out the limo. Instead, he just cocked an eyebrow and waited.

But rather than chew him out for whatever sin the brunet felt the blond had committed, the assistant simply told the teen to stick by his side and keep his mouth shut. Nodding, Kendall watched as Logan exited the vehicle, climbing out after him and doing what he was told to do.

The group made their way inside the station, an employee there ready to greet James and lead him to the green room where they'd wait until it was time for the interview. The singer flopped onto the couch, sitting with his legs spread wide, one hand holding his drink on his knee, the other rubbing at tired eyes. Kendall felt the urge, the _need_ to walk over and sit next to him, to rest the elder male's head on his shoulder and let him rest for a bit, just holding him close. But the narrow-eyed look he got from Logan told him that it'd be a bad idea, that he should just stay where he was against the wall on the opposite side of the room and not do anything that would look bad if someone were to suddenly walk in.

It was only a minute or two before someone came to fetch James, the singer and his bodyguard heading off to the booth for the interview, leaving the teen and the assistant alone. Which was just a fun prospect all around really.

Ignoring the male he was stuck with, Kendall wandered around the room, taking everything in. The station was being broadcast from hidden speakers in the ceiling, allowing him to hear an ad for a local car dealership convincing people their shit credit wasn't a big deal and they could still get a nice ride. The table to the side had a coffee maker with a pot already hot and waiting, various snack foods on display for consumption.

"This shit's free, right?" he double-checked, head turned to Logan sitting on an overstuffed armchair, the hand holding the remnants of his latte pointing to the catering spread.

"Yeah," the assistant replied, taking a sip of his own regular coffee, which was oddly served at a Starbucks. "Go for it."

The teen shrugged, not needing to be told twice to eat—teenage metabolism was great like that-grabbing a glazed donut—or two-out the box and chomping down. He continued his wander-round, viewing posters for various DJs employed by the station, taking in the comfy as fuck looking couch, which he flopped back on like James had previously done. Yeah, way comfier feeling than it looked. He needed to get his mom to buy one of these.

"I'm gonna need your help."

The statement from outta nowhere startled Kendall, his head looking around before settling on Logan. Was this dude serious? No one ever asked the blond for help, at least not in recent times. Plus as far as he could tell, the assistant wasn't too stoked on him, didn't seem to like him being around. What the fuck could he possibly help out with?

Quirking an eyebrow, he just looked at the brunet, shoving the remnants of donut number one into his mouth.

"I know James can restrain himself, can hold himself back and not make any moves on you that would hurt his image," the elder male started, voice as serious as his face. "But I need to know I can trust you to do the same."

"Is this part two of the best friend protecting the buddy he grew up with speech?" Kendall questioned before taking a huge bite of donut number two.

"I'm being serious."

"So am I." His mom would have his ass for talking with his mouth full, but fuck it, she wasn't there.

Logan sighed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees as both hands clutched his coffee cup. "Look, while James is closeted, we both have to be careful of how he acts in public. I have the easy part," he stated, hand on his chest before he gripped his cup once more. "I know that he can hold himself back around me, that I'm like a brother to him and that he won't do anything to risk being outted around me. But with you? It's not that easy."

Kendall furrowed his brow as he gave the other male his full attention. Donuts finished, he licked his fingers clean, wiping them on his jeans as he turned slightly on the couch. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean that he doesn't need the guy he's dating kissing him with other people around, people who can talk."

The blond's eyebrows shot up briefly, forcing them back down as he made himself nod to show he understood. He didn't think Freight Train would say anything and he was pretty sure the driver didn't see anything, but admittedly, he hadn't been thinking about any of that shot when he kissed James, just that he needed to feel the elder male's lips on his own.

But that wasn't the part of Logan's speech that he focused on, the part that had caught his attention, the part that had his eyebrows raising and his heart stopping and his breath getting stuck in his throat. No, it was the phrase "the guy he's dating", as in he and James were _dating_, something that was news to him. In all honesty, he had no fucking clue how to define or describe what was going on between him and the singer. "Friends" didn't seem to work, since friends tended not to have phone sex or dry hump when hanging out. At least no friends that he ever had. And "dating" usually meant going on actual dates, hence the term, and so far, nothing of that nature had happened.

He wondered why exactly Logan had used that phrase, worded it that way. Was that how James had described it to him? Had the taller brunet told the shorter that he was dating the blond, that they were an item of some form? Or had the assistant come up with it himself as a way to label things and make it easier to talk about?

Kendall rubbed at his eyes, too tired to even _want_ to figure it out. In all honesty, the only thing he wanted was a fucking nap, preferably in the same bed as James.

Whose voice was currently coming through the speakers in a chorus of laughter.

"_Alright, man,_" the male DJ spoke, chuckles having subsided. "_Now for the million dollar question._"

"_You're giving me a million dollars?_" James jokingly questioned, the smirk fully evident in his voice.

The DJ laughed, a forced sound that spoke more of kissing a celeb's ass than actually finding him funny. "_Nah, but I doubt you're hurting for cash right now, man._" More fake laughing from both men before the host continued. "_But I gotta ask, are you single, in a relationship, what's going on there?_"

Logan muttered angry commentary under his breath, pissed off g-rated words concerning the interviewer doing exactly what the assistant had requested he not do. But the teen paid him no attention. Instead, he was focused solely on the words coming from the speaker above him, not moving, holding his breath outta fear he'd exhale too loud and miss James' answer.

A forced bark of laughter came from the singer and Kendall could practically see the elder male looking uncomfortable as hell, probably finger-combing his hair, fake smirk on his face as he made the corner of his lips twist up. "_I think I'd rather you give me the million bucks._"

Kendall stared down at his cup, watching his thumbs rub the lid, his barely there nails flicking against the lip of it. He could feel Logan's eyes on him, the assistant flicking his gaze up as he typed on his iPhone, seeming to try and gauge the teen's reaction to the broadcasted conversation.

"_Seriously, man,_" the DJ pressed, the blond wanting to punch the guy for harping on about something the singer clearly didn't wanna talk about. Fucking dickshit. "_Anyone special in your life right now?_"

A momentary pause, during which the teen imagined the pop star shuffling in his seat, clearing his throat, all the shit he did when on the phone with the younger male after being asked something he didn't wanna answer. Something like the status of his dating life.

"_I'm not dating anyone, no._"

And didn't that just suck the air right outta Kendall?

The teen slumped back on the couch, the broadcast turning into muffled background noise. He and James weren't dating, weren't an item, weren't...weren't anything really. There was nothing going on between them but intense sexual chemistry and an urge to fuck each other into oblivion. What the fuck was he even doing there? What the fuck was the point of him flying cross-country? Just a fuck, nothing more?

Shit, what the hell was wrong with him?

He pulled his iPhone out the pocket of his jeans, seeing it was barely past five-thirty. No way Camille would be awake. Not that he could call her with Glarey Magee in the room with him.

Returning his phone to its previous place, he slumped down on the couch even further, resting his head on the back of it. Fatigue was weighing him down, sadness helping to keep him there. He really needed some fucking answers and not to the cliche bullshit questions asked by some asshat disc jockey.

* * *

The radio interview didn't last too long—at least Kendall didn't think it did. He wasn't entirely sure in all honesty, having spaced out after the whole "I'm not dating anyone" thing happened. Not that he missed anything really. Interviews tended to be the same fucking questions over and over, just worded differently, the same pre-packaged bullshit given in response. So instead of listening to trite inquiries regarding the pop star's latest album or the whoring out of his new single and upcoming show, the blond zoned out, thinking over the impending discussion he desperately needed to have with the singer about their relationship status and what exactly they were to each other.

But it was a discussion that would have to wait. Once the interview was over, the group made their way back outside. More fans had shown up, James trying his best to sign autographs and takes pics with as many of them as possible, while Kendall and Logan got back into the limo, Freight Train staying outside to protect his charge.

Silence was a third passenger inside the vehicle, the blond picking at a worn-out patch on his jeans near his knee, the brunet messing on his iPhone once again.

'_Addict much?_'

'_Because you sooo have room to talk._'

'_No one asked you._'

He shifted in his seat, pulling at his jeans, adjusting his wallet chains so he wasn't sitting on them, his fidgeting drawing the attention of the other male. The teen stopped his actions, forcing himself to get comfy, looking out the window to the right, watching as James bent down to a shorter fan, smiling as she aimed a camera at the two of them. A smile tugged at the corner of Kendall's lips as he remembered how the pop star acted with his younger sister, how genuinely nice he was, how well he treated her. The term "keeper" popped into his head, but he quickly shoved it away, knowing that wasn't the case, not when he had no clue what the fuck they even were to each other, not when the singer wasn't his. And probably never would be.

Turning away, Kendall looked straight ahead, seeing Logan already looking at him. Raising an eyebrow, he took in the analytical look on the assistant's face, wondering what the fuck was so interesting that the brunet had to be staring at him like that. "What?"

The shorter male shrugged and shook his head. "Nothing."

Liar. But the teen was in no mood to deal with it, to actually somehow manage to give a fuck what someone else thought of him. He turned his head to the left to look out the window, elbow on the door, hand over his mouth as he stared at nothing, brain nothing but fuzz and static as fatigue came back with a vengeance. Fuck he needed a nap. He didn't care how preschool that sounded, he just wanted some fucking sleep.

"They any good?"

Kendall turned back to the assistant, the confusion on his face as to what the fuck the other male was talking about and where the hell that had come from.

"The band on your shirt," Logan explained, pointed to it. "I'm guessing it's a band."

The blond looked down at his black tee, seeing the red letters spelling out Bleed the Dream across his chest, before lifting his head and focusing on the other male again. "No, I just like wasting money on shirts of bands I think are shit," he replied sarcastically, furrowing his brow as he gave a slight sneer and shook his head in a "what the fuck do you think?" kinda motion.

The elder male nodded, bottom lip stuck out in a small pout of sorts, clearly seeing the younger's point, no matter how assholey it'd been delivered.

It wasn't long before Freight Train was managing to get into the limo, James following and taking his previous seat on Kendall's right. A few seconds later and the vehicle had left the lot, on its way to its next destination of—the blond had no fucking clue where.

"Where are we going now?" he questioned, looking back and forth between the two brunet males in the car.

"Hotel," Logan was the one to respond. "We have a few spare hours before we need to be at the venue."

"Thank god," James commented, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "I need a fucking nap bad."

"Can't imagine why," the assistant stated with a smirk, clearly being sarcastic, a pointed look given to the elder male.

The singer rolled his eyes, tossing his empty Starbucks cup at his best friend. "Shut up."

"Oh yeah, real mature," the younger male told him, taking hold of the cardboard mug at playfully glaring at his buddy before turning to the blond. "You sure you wanna be with this guy?"

Was he retarded?

Okay, saying that out loud was probably a bad idea. Definitely shouldn't insult the best friend of the guy you wanna go out with. So instead Kendall just shrugged, arms loosely folded across his lean torso, playing it off like it was no biggie. "My best friend beat me up with my own pillow the other day."

James cocked an eyebrow but shrugged it off, a look of "well okay then" on his face before he let out a yawn, hand flying up to barely cover his wide mouth. Plenty of room to fit Kendall's—yeah, that thought shouldn't be completed in a car full of people.

The singer struggled to keep his head up, exhaustion seeming to hit him as hard as it had the blond, and soon, his cranium was on the teen's shoulder, body relaxing, eyes closing as he drifted off.

Only for the pop star to immediately sit bold upright, eyes wide open, face flat as he stared straight ahead at nothing.

Kendall looked at the brunet, his brow furrowed, confusion on his features and in his mind. What the fuck was that? Okay, he might've been a li'l boney, but that never stopped Carlos from using him as a pillow. It was like the hand on the thigh thing all over again, the elder male seeming to have some sorta issue with PDA. Although the back of the limo with a trusted best friend and bodyguard hardly seemed all that public to the blond.

But still, there was obviously some sorta discomfort, some sorta reason for the singer's behavior and why he kept pulling away every time the two of them got close. The teen was determined to figure out what that reason was and what exactly was going on between them before the weekend was over, even if nothing else happened, even if it meant he wasn't getting laid.

No, he was still gonna get laid. That was definitely still happening.

Without a second thought, Kendall scooted along the backseat, leaning his body against James' side and resting his head on the pop star's broad shoulder. He figured that would be okay, that it wouldn't be cause for a throat clearing or another fucking spiel from Logan, since it really wasn't that big a deal on the outside. Friends leaned on other friends' shoulders all the time, it was something that could easily be explained away without anyone's sexuality coming into play. Quickly glancing at the assistant, the teen could see the brunet had no issue with it, brown eyes focused on someone else. The someone who was under the blond's head, the someone who had tensed up next to his body, the someone who seemed to be freaking out a bit.

As a means to reassure the other male, Kendall slid his hand over, cupping the singer's knee, squeezing it gently but with purpose, once again using actions to tell what he couldn't speak. He felt, as well as heard, the elder male swallow hard, green eyes locked to their adjoining laps as the brunet's hand moved to the blond's, entwining their fingers as he laid his head on top of the younger's. The smile on the teen's face was small but inside, it was every stupid fucking cliché about happiness that existed. Rainbows and butterflies and puppy dogs, all that cheesy shit that would normally make him vomit.

And for some odd reason, he was okay with it, okay with the lack of nausea and annoyance.

They arrived back at the hotel too soon for Kendall's liking, the singer pulling his hand away and lifting his head almost immediately, forcing the teen to straighten up himself. The foursome got out the limo, Freight Train leading the way back inside the hotel, through the lobby and to the elevators, the ride up just as silent as the ride down had been. They parted ways outside James' suite, he and Kendall heading inside, Logan presumably off to his own room, the bodyguard off to do... well, whatever he was supposed to do at that moment.

Kendall followed James to the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself, watching as the singer kicked off his sneakers while walking to the right side of the bed, emptying his pockets once he reached the nightstand. The teen did the same, putting his phone and wallet—complete with chains—on the opposite side from the pop star, boots being toed off soon after. Now shoeless, he looked up to see the brunet had removed his shirt and was working on undoing his jeans.

Green eyes went wide at the sight of tan skin stretched over a muscular back, inches of flesh that rolled and flexed with his movements, flesh the paler male wanted to mark with his teeth, tongue, mouth, and nails—well, if he _had_ any nails anyway. He imagined the movement of the muscles under his fingers, feeling them expand and contract with the brunet's actions, the motions of him thrusting in and out the slightly smaller male, both their bodies moving in the perfect rhythm they'd created together. He could practically feel the brunet tensing above him, muscles going rigid, back arching as he came inside the blond.

He could also feel himself getting harder, something that became more apparent as the pop star shucked his jeans and revealed long, toned legs.

God. Damn. And Kendall had thought the guy was beautiful in pictures. It was nothing compared to seeing it in person, no pixels distorting the image, no shitty connection making the image slow to load.

Snapping himself out of it, he turned away, shaking his head before he discarded his own tee and beanie, working on getting his jeans off, a task made all the more difficult considering the bulge that now resided in the front. A shuffling sounded out behind him and he turned to see James getting into bed, boxers still on.

"What happened to sleeping together naked?" Kendall questioned, eyebrow cocked, hands holding the edges of his jeans where the zipper lay.

"Trust me, I get you naked and the last thing we'll be doing is sleeping," the brunet stated bluntly, kneeling on the bed, pulling the comforter over himself as he sat. "And I dunno 'bout you, but I really need some shut eye."

The blond nodded, understanding what the other male was saying and agreeing that getting some rest sounded fucking awesome at that moment in time. Besides, they had all weekend. There was no need to rush the sex.

Kendall removed his jeans before joining the elder male in bed, James pulling the comforter over top both of them. The blond laid on his side, facing the brunet, who mirrored the younger male's body language. Without hesitation, the teen scooted closer, arms wrapping around the larger male's waist as he was enveloped in James' own limbs, legs tangling together underneath the comforter. A satisfied sigh left Kendall's lips, the air gusting against the elder male's mouth, noses rubbing and foreheads touching. All was perfect in that moment. Until the brunet's brow furrowed and a strange look came across his face.

The blond moved his head back slight to get a better look at the man he was holding. "What's up?"

"Nothing," the pop star stated, shaking his head. "Just. You fit pretty well there. In my arms I mean," he explained before speaking in a lower voice, eyes tilted down. "Almost like you belong there."

The blond moved closer, fingers spanning the other male's lower back, holding him in place. The singer was pulling away, metaphorically at least, and the teen could practically feel it happening, could see the distance in the hazel eyes he was trying to get to lock onto his own green ones. "And that's a bad thing?"

James lifted his gaze, finally looking Kendall in the eye, a million emotions in the mix of green and brown. "I dunno yet."

"Well. Until you do—" The blond let the sentence drift off, bringing his lips to the brunet's and kissing him, letting him know all was well, that them fitting together was good, more than good. It was perfect. And as James kissed Kendall back, the younger male couldn't help but feel like maybe the elder was starting to believe it, too.


	24. Deja Vu All Over Again

_**A/N: **__First of all, I wanna apologize for the delay on this one. Gracie has this thing where she can tell I'm tryna write and does everything in her power to stop it and/or make it pretty much impossible to do._

_Secondly, HUGE shout-out to Maria (MeHeartsKendall) for the gorgeous photoset she made for this fic. LOVE it, truly amazing. Thanks again, hun _

_Third, the original plan had other things happening in this chapter but once again, these assholes took over and did their own thing. Seriously. A good ninety percent or so of this is NOT what was originally written in my plot notes, but then I got to writing it out and...sigh. But the original stuff will be in the next chap. I hope._

_Ass covering about iPhones. Um, not sure what else. Currently making sure Gracie and Scrappy's play-fighting doesn't turn to bloodshed. Oh! Credit to Yogi Berra for the chapter title. Enjoy the update!_

* * *

Kendall woke up with lips on his neck and a hard dick between his cheeks. Okay, there were two layers of boxers in the way, but he could still feel it laying along the crack, pressing, throbbing, wordlessly speaking of activities to come. A smile formed on the blond's face, a low satisfied "mmm" leaving him as he moved his hips and pressed back against the singer.

James pulled his lips away from the skin of the teen's neck where he'd been kissing his way from behind the ear to the shoulder. A small groan came from parted lips, a throaty exhale following, as his broad frame pressed into the teen's lean back more. Using the arm already around the younger male's torso, the elder moved his hand from where it sat with fingers splayed over the other guy's chest down his torso, wrapping it around the blond's waist and holding him tight.

The blond's bottom lip made its way between his teeth, Kendall biting down as he felt the brunet start rutting against him, a preview of what was to come. He thought back to previous phone calls, to the singer's throaty words of how he'd wake the teen up, promises of morning sex and rim jobs. And while it technically wasn't morning anymore, he was still holding out hope for a wake-up fuck.

Kendall started moving his hips back against the other male's, grinding against the hard cock that was trying to work its way between his cheeks. James rested his forehead on the blond's shoulder, breath coming out in pants, fingers clenching the smaller male's hip as it lay on the bed.

"Fuck, Kendall." The words were breathed out, ghosting down over the younger's dampening skin, causing a shiver to race up his spine.

A groan escaped the blond's mouth, lips parting and hanging open, eyes drifting closed. He felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, mind back in that fucking dressing room in St Paul, where he'd heard those exact same words spoken in almost the exact same way in almost the exact same situation. The two of them grinding against each other, moaning, getting more worked up with each passing second as the sexual tension grew to an unbearable level. And just like before, the teen had the exact same response.

His right hand slid under the pillow, gripping onto the case, left hand fisting the sheet as his arm stretched out in front of him, his words leaving him in a harsh groan. "Please."

But James didn't stop his actions, didn't pull away, didn't leave. Sure, a swear was muttered just like last time, only it was lacking the closed-off, shut-down tone of before.

The brunet lifted his head, biting down on the blond where neck met shoulder, earning a gasp that turned into a groan. Unwrapping his arm, he moved his hand to the smaller's shoulder blade, pushing slightly.

The younger male took the hint, rolling over onto his stomach, feeling his heart pounding against the mattress, his breath leaving him in harsh gasps as he turned his head to the side. Out the corner of his eye, he watched the elder move on top of him, felt his hair being tugged and his head slightly pulled back. Open mouthed kisses were placed along the column of his spine, hands gripping his hips, the body on top of his slowly moving downwards.

Both Kendall's head and heart were racing, having a damn good idea what was about to happen, memories of his first phone sex session flashing in his mind and what the pop star had said he'd do to him. His bottom lip made its way between his teeth once again, fingers fisting the sheet underneath the pillow, back arching up to meet the other male's lips. His cock throbbed in his boxers, pulsing in anticipation, his ass clenching and relaxing as he waited for the brunet's next move.

James straddled Kendall's legs, tongue sliding along the hem of the blond's undies, hands still gripping the leaner male's hips with his thumbs rubbing the smooth skin of his lower back. The smaller male's breathing was shaky, ragged, body trembling beneath the larger frame of the singer, eagerly awaiting what was gonna happen. The elder male sat up, ass resting on the younger's thighs, hands moving to his ass and palming the cheeks, before letting out a small laugh.

The fuck?

Kendall lifted his head, turning it somewhat to look at the singer, eyebrow cocked in confusion. "Care to enlighten me about what the fuck is so funny?"

"I just can't believe you wore 'em," he commented, smiling widely, still chuckling lowly, still palming and massaging the blond's ass.

Confusion was still the primary emotion in the teen's mind, until he noticed where the pop star's hazel eyes were trained: the back of his boxers, where a giant white skull sat.

A smirk played on the blond's face, shrugging a shoulder like it wasn't a big deal. Which it wasn't. "You wanted me to," he reminded the brunet. "You told me to wear 'em so I am."

A strange look came across the singer's face, almost like he wasn't entirely sure how to react to that statement, brow drawn as he looked down at the printed skull. Okay, not exactly the reaction he thought he'd get. He figured he'd get a huge smile, a grin that showed how pleased the elder male was that the younger remembered that convo, a naughty glint in hazel eyes that told what the green-orbed one's reward would be for listening. The last thing Kendall figured he'd be getting was a confused guy who seemed not to know how to react or what to do next.

Kendall rolled over onto his back, James slightly lifting up to allow the movement, head still tilted down and brow still drawn. The blond placed his hands on the other male's thighs, rubbing them soothingly, face full of confusion and concern. "You okay?"

The singer nodded, lifting his head to show the fake twist of his lips that was supposed to be a smile. "Fine."

"You don't seem fine," the teen pushed, knowing he was doing exactly what he found annoying in other people. If he said he was "fine", "okay", "just great, thanks for asking", he actually meant "convo's over, quit talking 'cause that's all you're getting outta me." Yet there he was, pressing, trying to get the elder male to open up and tell what was wrong when he hated assholes who did that very thing. Hypocrite much?

The brunet's brow furrowed once again, face serious, lost, unsure. His tongue darted out to wet dry lips, the blond swallowing hard at the sight as he reminded his twitching dick that he had to deal with more important matters at that moment in time. There'd be plenty time later on to feel the wet muscle on his hard cock.

Thinking about that future moment wasn't helping though.

His brain wasn't taking the hint.

Focusing on the other male _did_ help, forcing him to pay attention to what was going on in that moment instead of moments to come. He watched the elder male shrug a shoulder, shake his head, fingers combing the hair at the top of his head. "I'm just not used to anyone actually doing what I ask."

Okay, that was confusing as fuck and quite possibly a load of shit. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, eyebrow cocked, hands still as they lay on top of James' thighs. "People do what you ask all the time. Perks of being a rock star, right?"

The singer shook his head. "You'd think that, but it's mostly me following orders and doing whatever I'm told to. Go here, sing that song, do that dance, smile pretty for the camera. You think I'd be used to it after how I grew up."

The teen swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, his heart stopping, lungs freezing. This was it, a huge moment in their relationship-if it even _was_ a relationship-a moment where the truth would be revealed, past secrets unearthed, skeletons let out the closet. It was gonna be a huge turning point for the two of them, the blond knew it deep down in his soul, and he was trying like hell not to fuck it all up.

"Whaddya mean?" He kept his voice low so as to not freak the singer out and scare him silent.

But that's what happened anyway. James shook his head, essentially shaking away the comment and the question, trying to change the conversation. But Kendall wasn't about to let it go that easily. He didn't leave in the middle of the night and fly over 1500 miles just for them to continue to be distant emotionally and keep hiding shit from each other. No, that shit was gonna change.

"Tell me," he urged, green eyes locked onto hazel ones.

"Just what I said," the brunet stated, seeming reluctant as ever to talk about this sorta shit. "I got told what to do, how to act, how to be. And now with this career, that shit hasn't seemed to change."

"But I'm sure you get to boss people around, too," Kendall pointed out. "Shit, you told Logan we had to stop by Starbucks on the way to the station."

James hands wrapped around the blond's biceps, thumbs rubbing the pale skin, the edge of the bandana he wore tickling the younger male. "That's different. That's Logan. It's hard to explain, but-" He trailed off, ending his statement with a sigh.

"I get it," the blond stated, mind thinking of Carlos back home, memories of all the shit he'd put the Latino through flashing in his head and how the smaller guy always seemed to pull through for the taller. He didn't deserve a friend like that. Hell, there was a lotta shit he didn't deserve really.

Shoving that shit aside, he focused on the conversation at hand once more. "If it makes you happy, you can order me around all you want," he told the elder male with a smirk.

A matching salacious smile formed on the singer's face, eyes sparkling with naughty ideas of what could happen between the two of them in that bed. His thumbs continued to rub at the blond's biceps as his tongue licked his lips once again. "Sounds good to me," he replied, hazel eyes lowering to the other male's lips. "In fact, I think I'll start by ordering you to put that sarcastic mouth of yours to good use and wrapping it around my cock again."

The younger male bit his lower lip, hips bucking up, mouth watering at the remembered taste of the elder male. He actually really loved sucking dick, especially one as nice as James'. So the thought of getting to go down on him again was a major fucking turn on.

Smirk still on his face, he moved his hands to the brunet's shoulders, lifting himself up as he pushed on the other male, flipping them over so he was on top. The pop star grinned up at the teen, hands on the younger male's hips, gripping them hard. Kendall moved so he was straddling the elder male's pelvis, their erections pressed together and making them both groan at the feeling. Not wanting to let another moment go to waste, he leaned down, connecting their lips in a heated kiss.

James didn't hesitate to kiss back, their lips slotted together perfectly, moving in harmony. It didn't take long for their tongues to join in, another battle for dominance starting up, neither male backing down or giving in to the other. Their hips ground together, the blond pressing down hard as the brunet bucked up, moans being swallowed by the other male, harsh exhales forcing their ways out their noses and onto the other guy.

The teen smoothed his hands on the elder male's broad chest as the pop star's disappeared down the back of his boxers, palming the younger's cheeks, massaging them, spreading them apart to slip his fingertips in between.

Only to have an alarm go off on Kendall's right. Fucking cock block.

Lifting his head, he sat up, panting hard, glaring at the nightstand where James' iPhone sat, lit up and expelling a good awful beeping. Stupid fucking technology. He thought it was supposed to help folks _get_ laid, what with sexting, Skype sex, and Craig's List. But nooo, there it was preventing the act from happening. Phones sucked.

With a groan, he leaned over, ready to grab the smartphone and shut it up, only to have the singer's eyes go wide in a panic. The brunet sat up suddenly, nearly knocking the blond backwards, letting out a loud "no!" as he leaned towards the nightstand himself.

Well, that could be added to the List of Weird Shit James Did Or Said That Day.

Cocking an eyebrow, Kendall pulled his hand back and put it on the singer's lower abdomen, confusion on his face at the other guy's weird reaction. Clearly there was something on that iPhone he didn't want the teen to see, didn't want the teen to know about. But what? It was a fucking alarm, not that big a deal really.

He always heard celebs were eccentric, but that was a li'l extreme.

James snatched his iPhone from the nightstand, hiding the screen from Kendall as he switched the alarm off, before laying it facedown next to him on the bed. A harsh sigh left him, hand roughly rubbing its way down his face, eyes turned down at the sides in sadness. Both hands back on the younger male's hips, he rubbed his thumbs on the V located there, hazel orbs staring straight ahead at a bare torso.

"We gotta get up now," the brunet stated unnecessarily, reluctantly, not seeming to want to but knowing he had to. The blond figured it was partially because of the whole being told what to do all the time thing, partially because he wanted to stay in bed with the teen. At least Kendall _hoped_ that was part of it.

The younger male nodded, knowing the elder was right but not liking it either. He was aware of the fact that the weekend wasn't gonna be just the two of them-which just _really_ fucking sucked-that he'd hafta share the other male, that alone time was gonna be a rare thing. But he shoved his disappointment aside, reminding himself that at least he'd have those few moments, that at least he'd be around the singer physically at all, and that was more than he'd had before. Fuck only knew if and when he'd have the chance to do it again. He needed to take advantage of it when he could.

"So," the singer started, eyebrow cocked. "You gonna get off or-" he trailed off, letting the rest of the question hang.

The teen smirked, hands gripping the elder's shoulders as he ground down against him. "Oh you want me to get off?" he questioned, knowing that's not what the other male meant but not caring, only wanting to keep them both in bed for as long as possible. And then for longer. "I can do that," he continued, still pressing his hard cock against the elder's, touching their foreheads together and feeling the singer's harsh pants against his lips. "I can even help you get off, too. Several times."

James groaned, a throaty sound, his eyes drifting closed as he moved his pelvis against the blond's. Clearly he was on board with this plan, had zero issues with letting Kendall get him off-repeatedly-no problems with the two of them staying where they were and giving into baser instincts. But, like before, the singer's iPhone wasn't on the same page as the two males.

The brunet's sexual groan turned into a frustrated one as the device beeped on the bed. He muttered threats and swears, the words "Logan" and "death wish" being used.

The blond didn't bother tryna grab the smartphone or checking the text that had come through, not after last time, not after the pop star's weird overreaction to the possibility of the teen seeing his screen. Instead, he simply dropped his hands onto his lap, careful to avoid his twitching cock that seemed to be wondering what the fuck was going on and why no one was touching it. Hanging his head, he was able to see the other male's motions, see the iPhone being grabbed, thumb sliding across the screen to get rid of the message. He didn't need to see the harsh sigh that was expelled, able to hear it, feel it as his own body moved with the action, air gusting on his bare chest.

James put his smartphone back where it had been, free left hand lifting up to rub harshly at his face as he stared at the device. Hand dropping to his side, he rubbed the back of his iPhone cover with his index finger, not seeming in a hurry to move, that reluctance still there.

Kendall lifted his head, looking at the small amount of James' face he could see, perfect cheekbones and slender nose, twisted lips and strong jaw. He could spend forever memorizing those features, tracing them with his eyes, fingers, lips. All he wanted was to stay in that bed—or any bed really, he wasn't picky—with the other male, the rest of the world forgotten, just the two of them and nothing else.

But reality actually existed and as much as things felt like a dream, the blond knew it wasn't so. Meaning they had to leave their li'l bubble and deal with the world outside.

And didn't that just suck?

With a sigh, he moved his hands to the singer's shoulders, watching as the brunet moved his head to meet his eyes. "We definitely hafta go now, huh?" the younger male questioned, voice low, sad.

The elder simply nodded, hands staying where they were on the bed, fingers wrapped around the iPhone and the sheets as though he was tryna keep the appendages there.

Sliding his own hands around, Kendall cupped the back of James' neck with his left, his right tangling in the soft strands of his hair at the back of his head before resting his forehead on the elder male's. "We still have tonight though, right? After the show?"

A smirk played on the brunet's lips, his own arms finally moving, wrapping around the younger male's lean torso and pulling him close, bare skin on bare skin. "Yeah," he replied, finger splayed on the blond's back. "Just you, me, and a whole lotta condoms."

The younger male cocked an eyebrow as he pulled his head away, getting a better look at the cocky expression on the elder's face. "A whole lot, huh?"

"Ohhh yeah," the singer stated, tongue darting out to lick his lips as his hands started moving down the teen's back. "I'm gonna make it so you can't walk right for a week." His hands landed on Kendall's ass, cupping it, giving it a squeeze, the blond's hips rolling in response and making the brunet bite his bottom lip.

The shorter male smirked, green eyes glittering with naughtiness and mischief. "_Only_ a week."

"Smart ass," the taller muttered, leaning forward to reconnect his lips with the other male's for the upteenth time that morning. Not that the blond was complaining. He could kiss the brunet for the rest of his life, feel those lips moving against his, tongues tangling, teeth nibbling. And the way that make out session was going, the way things were heating up, it seemed like that would actually be happening, like they'd truly be kissing forever.

Until James' fucking phone fucking beeped a-fucking-gain.

Kendall was gonna find out the brunet's service provider and bomb the fucking place. Or more likely, kick Logan's ass, since chances were high it was the assistant again. Plus it'd be easier and cheaper and the blond would be less likely to go to jail that way.

Pulling away from James, Kendall withheld a groan, not bothering to hide the annoyance from his face or voice. "How the fuck does he know?" he questioned, watching the pop star grab his iPhone once more.

"'Cause he knows me," the singer muttered absently, more focused on typing on the touchscreen than what he was actually saying out loud.

The teen cocked an eyebrow at that, wondering exactly what that meant. Had the singer been in the situation before? Was the assistant constantly having to text to get the pop star to end his fuck-fests with other fans? Was this a common occurrence, one that happened frequently enough that the shorter brunet had developed a routine of getting the taller to end things? Was Kendall just helping feed James' habit?

Putting the iPhone down, the singer lifted his head, his own eyebrow arching at the look on the teen's face. "What?"

"Whaddya mean he knows you?" he asked, totally not sounding worried at all. "What's that gotta do with the constant texts?"

James actually looked nervous, panicked, if only for a split second, like he was freaked out cause he'd been busted saying something he hadn't meant to. But, like always, that mask slid in place and his voice remained calm and level as he covered his ass. "I have a habit of sleeping through my alarm. Not a morning person."

It was a load of shit and Kendall was fully aware. He knew the singer was, in fact, a morning person, countless stories of the brunet waking early for voice lessons or to practice on his own in the school's choir room. Hell, the pop star being an early riser was a fact the blond had tried to use as argument for why it wouldn't work between the two of them, why he shouldn't gain a crush, since he actually was prone to sleeping in.

But he didn't say any of that. He didn't wanna start some sorta argument or fight, didn't want to accuse the elder male of lying, didn't wanna piss the guy off by not believing him. That, plus he didn't wanna seem like a fanboy with his knowledge of the singer's habits. So he kept his mouth shut and nodded, making like he was buying what the brunet was selling.

James nodded back, hands on Kendall's hips again, only instead of holding the blond in place, he was moving the younger male off. The teen helped, raising himself onto his knees and slightly falling to the side, landing on his ass on the mattress. The brunet didn't hesitate to immediately get outta bed and the blond didn't hesitate to feel rejected. Bad enough he believed he wasn't the first to be in that situation with the pop star, the first to try and keep him in bed for illicit reasons. Now it seemed like James couldn't wait to get away from him.

A small sigh escaped him before he moved over and got out the opposite side of the bed, hand smoothing down his hair as he stood on the carpet. He could hear the rustling of fabric behind him, knew it was the singer putting his clothes back on, knew whatever moment was about to happen was over.

It was the dressing room all over again.

'_Shocker! He's leaving you once more. But what did you expect? He's an international pop star with a steady stream of groupies waiting on their knees for him and you're... well, you._'

The truth was a hard lump in his throat that he tried to swallow, not having much success.

Shoving all that shit aside, he walked over and grabbed his pants off the ground where he left them, getting dressed. As he grabbed his wallet from the nightstand, he felt arms wrap around his waist, a hard torso pressing into his back, lips pressing to his ear.

"I'm sorry," James apologized, his voice low but sincere. "I'd say it won't always be like this but-" he trailed off, allowing Kendall to finish his statement.

"But you don't wanna lie."

The brunet nodded, putting his lips to the blond's cotton covered shoulder, the blond nodding back.

The teen turned, the singer's hands moving to cup his ass as the younger male laid his over the elder's shoulders. "It's fine. As long as I get you tonight."

That salacious smirk was back on James' face as he slid one hand over, pressing his fingers between Kendall's cheeks. Well, as much as he could with denim and cotton in the way. "All. Night. Long."

"Good," the teen replied, licking his lips before touching them to the singer's.

This time it wasn't the phone that interrupted them. It was a pounding at the hotel room door. James pulled away, letting out a harsh sigh before meeting Kendall's eyes.

"I'll go deal with the impatient jackass. You finish getting ready."

The blond nodded and with a slap to his ass, he felt the brunet pull away from his arms before leaving the bedroom of the suite. He held back a sigh, feeling like he'd done enough of that shit that morning, instead focusing on sliding his wallet into his back right pocket and clipping the chains to a belt loop at the front. Next was his socks, then his shoes, then his beanie before he stood once again, this time reaching for his iPhone. Only to stop when his fingers wrapped around the device.

His mind flashed back to a few minutes ago, to James' weird reaction when he tried to take hold of the singer's smartphone. He figured there'd be no reason to hide what the alarm said, whatever statement the pop star had programmed his phone to tell him when he woke up, so there had to be something on the lock screen he didn't want the teen to see. Paranoia took over, creating the theories that flashed through his head. Maybe the brunet was already in a relationship with someone else and was cheating with the blond. Maybe it was a photo of some groupie-or multiple groupies-he'd hooked up with. Maybe...

Okay, Kendall seriously needed to fucking stop that downward spiral before he ended up a splattered mess of heartbreak and insecurity. It didn't matter. It was just a fucking iPhone. Although that being said, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted the pop star seeing his own lock screen and figuring out exactly how hung up he was on the brunet.

Which just led him back to wondering why James would hide his screen pic. Merry-go-rounds are fun. About as fun as mood swings and emotional roller coasters.

Kendall wondered why they were called relation_ships_ and not relation-not-so-amusing-parks.

'_Cause ships sink._'

'_Oh. Right._'

Okay, he seriously needed to get perspective from someone other than his brain, someone _not_ permanently residing in Nega-Town. A glance at the clock told him Camille was most likely awake, but he wasn't sure about school.

"Kendall!" James' voice called through from the main part of the suite. "You ready yet?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'!" he called back, sliding his iPhone into his front left pocket, figuring his phone call with her would have to wait. Double-checking he had everything, he left the bedroom and joined James, Logan, and Freight Train in the living area. A couple head nods in acknowledgment to the other two males and they were on their way out the hotel room once again.

And, like before, James didn't touch Kendall after he stepped into the hallway.

* * *

Fans were already waiting outside the arena when the limo pulled into the back lot where the buses and trucks were parked. Looking out the tinted window, Kendall could see more admirers lined up along the guard rails, screams piercing through the vehicle's shells and into the blond's ears. How the fuck James could stand that on a daily basis, he hasn't a fucking clue. He would've gone insane at that point.

The limo parked itself, Freight Train exiting first and giving the all clear before James got out. Logan was next, leaning up to the pop star's ear and saying something, getting a nod in response, as Kendall got out. The taller brunet glanced at him, giving him a small smile before heading over to the fans with his bodyguard.

Kendall had a brief moment of "the fuck do I do now?" before Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him a "c'mon." With a quick nod, the teen followed the assistant to the large doorway, both entering the backstage area. The blond stuck close to the brunet, looking around and taking in the bustle of people running around to do their job, preparing everything for that night's show.

Logan led him to a room marked 'Security', obtaining a pass for Kendall, who slipped it over his neck. The lanyard was kinda itchy and annoying on the back of his neck but it was better than dealing with the paranoia of having one of the guards throw him out because he didn't have the proper security clearance.

The brunet then gave a small tour of the backstage area, introducing the blond to various crew and band-members, telling them the teen was a friend of James'. Kendall didn't argue or deny it, figuring it was as close to accurate as possible, not to mention a good cover so no one would get suspicious. It was obvious Logan was aware of the singer's sexuality, and so was Freight Train, especially after the kiss in the limo and the moans the bodyguard probably overheard that morning. But that being said, Kendall had no idea what the other members of the James Diamond touring party knew so for the time being, Kendall was going along with their request to keep everything quiet and on the DL.

The tour ended at the singer's dressing room, where James was already waiting, pacing, finger-combing his hair. It was déjà vu all over again, Kendall flashing back to the last James Diamond concert he went, when Logan had led him to the dressing room, when the door had opened to reveal a pacing pop star, when he'd been pinned against the wall and kissed hard.

When James had walked out without a word.

Deja vu sucks.

The singer and his assistant started a convo about the schedule for the day, the teen not all that interested in hearing about how little time he'd have with the pop star. So instead he zoned out, walking around the room as he took in the items there. An open wardrobe case stood to the side, revealing James' onstage outfits, boombox on top of the red luggage. A table covered in food was on the wall with the door, a couch on the opposite side of the room. On the fourth wall was an entertainment unit with a pretty sweet looking tv, blu-ray player, and gaming system, part of the pop star's pre-show ritual.

Kendall headed to the catering table, teenage metabolism rearing its ugly head once again, stomach pissed he hadn't put anything in it for a while. He grabbed a carrot stick, biting down with a loud crunch, figuring it wouldn't be an issue if he just helped himself. The shit was free, plus he'd already had the singer's dick in his mouth. Putting a vegetable in it without permission didn't seem like that big a deal.

Turning around, he saw James and Logan wrap up their convo, the shorter male giving a pointed look to the taller as he muttered something through clenched teeth. The blond suddenly felt awkward, like he was intruding upon something he wasn't supposed to see or hear, but had nowhere else to go. Sure he'd been introduced to the rest of the crew but it wasn't like he really knew them or even wanted to. He flew out to spend time with James, not the guys putting the show together. And okay, most of the time he'd had with the singer was spent sleeping and making out but that was gonna change. He hoped.

His brow furrowed as he put the final piece of carrot in his mouth. He hadn't tried to kid himself into thinking he'd be able to spend countless hours locked up in a room somewhere with _just_ James-although he wouldn't mind that happening-had known most of their time would be spent with other people, the singer having a busy schedule and all. And clearly sex was gonna happen, all the phone calls and the fooling around they'd done that day leading up to it, but he wondered if they were gonna have time to talk like they so desperately needed. He needed to know where they stood, what exactly they were to each other, what was happening between them, where everything was going.

He wondered if he'd ever run out of questions when it came to the other male.

Watching James nod at something Logan had said, head tilted down, hazel eyes locked onto his iPhone, Kendall figured the answer was "no".

Oddly enough, he was kinda okay with spending his time finding answers. And he knew it was because it meant he'd be spending that time with James.

Logan gave yet another pointed look at James, who responded with an eye roll, the shorter brunet sighing. He glanced over at Kendall for a brief moment before turning back to his best friend, resignation on his face, like he knew he was fighting a losing battle and was slowly giving up. Without another word, he turned and exited the room, closing the door behind himself.

Leaving Kendall alone with James.

It was the perfect opportunity, a chance to talk to the elder male about the million inquiries in his head, questions about their relationship, their future, the singer's iPod. But he never got a shot to utter a syllable, déjà vu hitting him again.

Or rather, James' body hit him.

Seconds after the door clicked shit, the brunet had the blond pinned against the wall, lips attached, pelvises grinding together, hands on the smaller male's hips. It took a moment for the teen to get over the initial shock, but he was soon kissing back, hands on the back of the singer's head, rutting back against him. He was still hard from previous activities in the hotel room, his cock pinched in the waistband of his boxers, throbbing against the dark cotton. And with the friction that was being created, the tongue in his mouth, the knowledge that the other male was erect, too, it was all making it worse. He needed something inside him and soon.

Almost as though he could read the younger male's mind, James slid his hands around to Kendall's back, under the blond's tee, gripping the skin there. The teen ground his pelvis against the pop star's harder, a whiny noise escaping his throat, a sound of pure desperation. The brunet took the hint-thank fuck-right hand slipping under the blond's jeans, into his boxers, middle finger sliding between his cheeks and rubbing over his entrance.

Kendall pulled away from James' lips, head falling back and hitting the wall behind him, his beanie cushioning the blow as he let out a low moan. He bit his lower lip as his eyes met the singer's, seeing that the bright hazel-green color had darkened, lids halfway closed and pupils blown. The blatant arousal on the elder's face amped up the desire in the younger, his need to be with the singer on a physical level getting worse, an ache that went beyond a throbbing cock and twitching hole.

The pad of James' finger started playing with Kendall's entrance, circling it, rubbing it, making the puckered hole pulse. The teen's breathing was shaky, harsh, small noises barely escaping past parted lips as he moved his hips back and forth between the elder male's finger and cock, needing more.

The brunet pulled his hand out, sucking and licking two fingers, getting them coated in his saliva, before putting his hand back where it had been, his now wet middle finger playing with the blond's hole once again. Their foreheads were pressed together, hips still moving, mingled breath coming out in harsh pants.

"Fuck, James." The statement was barely a whisper, leaving the smaller male in a sigh. "Please." He had no clue what exactly he was asking for, just knew that he wanted the singer to do something, anything to help him get off.

Luckily for him, the elder knew what to do, knew what the younger needed. He moved his head to the other male's neck, nuzzling just below the ear, the rasp of a few day's growth scratching the sensitive skin in a mix of pain/pleasure. His middle finger slipped inside of the teen, wrenching a gasp and a small moan from him, although he wasn't sure if it was from arousal or hurt. But his mind was distracted from the pain when the brunet attached his lips to the blond's neck, sucking hard on the skin.

A small "ah" noise came from Kendall, the blond moving his hands to the brunet's shoulders, gripping hard on the graphic tee, feeling the singer's finger slide in all the way. It was so much fucking better than he imagined, the other male's fingers not quite as long, but thicker, filling and stretching him more, better. He recalled hearing about some study that said a guy's fingers were more indicative of dick size than his feet and he hoped to fuck it was true. Cause if that was the case, when the two of them finally _did_ get naked-and some lube and condoms-he knew he was gonna get the best fuck of his life.

James kept sucking Kendall's neck, seeming to be following through on his promise to mark the younger male, as he moved his finger in and out in a steady rhythm, one that matched the motion of his hips. The blond's eyes drifted closed, head tilted back and to the side, hitching a leg up and around the larger male in an effort to get closer, to get more friction where he so desperately needed it. His orgasm was close, the pressure building up inside and making his balls move closer to his body. He started worrying about what a fucking lameass he was, about how fucked up he'd seem to the pop star after coming twice due to dry humping.

But then the brunet bit down on the hickey he'd made and all thoughts went out the window.

Kendall's eyes went wide, hips jerking up harder against the other guy's, fingers digging into his shoulders as he yelled out a "holy shit, James!" He could feel the singer smirk on his skin, saw the cocky look on his face when he lifted his head and those dark eyes met green ones.

"Biting fetish, huh?"

Kendall just glared, refusing to acknowledge anything, refusing to let this egotistical fuckface know he'd figured something out, something he could use to his advantage. James just kept up the cocky grin, moving his head and biting the other side of he blond's neck, earning the same physical reaction.

"Fuck, yes, okay? Yes, I like being bitten," the younger male confessed, clawing at the elder's shirt, hips rolling more, so close to coming he could taste it.

"Good," the brunet simply stated, voice harsh, forehead pressed against the other's once again. "'Cause I just happen to be a biter. And a hair puller." As if to emphasize his point, he moved his free left hand under Kendall's beanie, grabbing hold of the long dirty blond strands at he back of his head and pulling.

The teen let out a moan that faded to a desperate cry of sorts, head tilting back again. "God, fuck me, please."

James didn't go through with his request, but did slide another finger inside of Kendall, the blond groaning and clenching around the digit. "So fucking tight," he muttered out harshly. "Fuck, please be a bottom."

"Most of the time," the smaller male replied, pausing to pant and swallow, trying to create some sorta moisture in his dry mouth. "Sometimes I top."

"I'll let you top me," the taller stated, eyes locked onto the shorter's. "I just wanna fuck all night with you."

"Starting now?" Okay, his voice was desperate, maybe even a little whiny, but the blond was so hard up, so close, so _everything_ that it really couldn't be helped.

James swallowed hard, shaking his head, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Can't. No time. Too close to fuck you right."

'_Oh thank fuck,_' Kendall thought, loving that he was able to get the singer so worked up, able to get the brunet off as easily as he did. But there was no fucking way he was gonna be the loser who came first twice. He was gonna make sure the elder male orgasmed before he did.

Without hesitation, he dropped his leg and quickly undid the other male's belt and jeans, so focused on his task that he barely noticed that James had stopped the motions of his hand and pelvis.

"Kendall?" His voice was shaky, unsure, not seeming to know what the hell was going on.

The blond simply smirked, spreading open the singer's pants and sliding his hand inside his boxers. "Relax," he instructed, noting that his own vocal chords were a little huskier than usual. "Gotta make sure you come."

The pop star opened his mouth to say something but never uttered a syllable. The teen's hand squeezing the base of his cock made it pretty much impossible to formulate words.

Kendall's smirk stayed, grew even, especially when he began hearing those little moans the singer let out as he moved his hand up and down the pop star's cock. He twisted his wrist, thumbed the head and slit, smeared the precome all around as he jacked the elder male off, relishing the fact that he was once again on his way to making the guy he had feelings for orgasm. He took in the feel of the soft skin on James' most sensitive organ, how much it differed from his own hockey and guitar roughened hands. He bit his lip as he heard the brunet pant, moan, whine, a soft cry of "Kendall" coming out at a low volume. He could stay there in that moment forever, spend all of eternity listening to those sounds, his heart pounding and stomach flipping at he knowledge that he was the cause of them.

But he never got a chance to fully appreciate them, to take the time to completely soak it in. James had started moving his fingers once again, sliding them in and out of his hole, rubbing his inner-walls and stroking sensitive nerves. Kendall's free arm went around the singer's shoulders, clinging on for dear life as he pulled himself closer. His hand was shaking as he continued stroking the brunet, his entire body trembling in the larger male's embrace. Resting his chin on a broad shoulder, he felt lips on his neck, not kissing, just panting, groans, harsh breath being forced out against his skin and causing him to shake even more. All of it was that same mix of too much but not enough, the pop star's skin hot, burning through the cotton of his t-shirt and the blond wanted to come to make it stop, to get some relief from the heat and the ache, but at the same time wanted it to last forever.

James shook, a loud groan and an "oh fuck!" being cried out as Kendall grazed his balls. Seeing it as a sign of weakness, the blond reached down and cupped the brunet's sack, squeezing, massaging, earning whiny groans that sounded a lot like the ones he'd let out earlier.

"Oh shit, Kendall," the singer exhaled loudly, forehead pressed to the teen's shoulder as his fingers lost their rhythm, his mind more focused on what was being done to him rather than what he was supposed to be doing. "I'm gonna-" His sentence was cut short by another high whiny noise, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip.

Kendall moved his hand back, fingers wrapping around the singer's cock once again as the pop star's hips moved back and forth at a rapid pace, practically fucking into the teen's grip. The blond could feel the dick in his hand throbbing, pulsing, his tee being pulled at the back where the elder male had a death grip on it. It wasn't long before the teen felt the singer's cock jerk, come spurting out and onto his hand-as well as the pop star's boxers. James completely tensed against him, his hips still, a long groan of Kendall's name being exhaled against his thin shoulder.

The blond kept moving his wrist, milking every last drop out, kissing the singer's neck and rubbing his shoulder blades as he felt the larger frame trembling against him. For the moment, he'd completely forgotten about his own orgasm that was seconds away from being released or the fingers still buried to the hilt in his ass. All that mattered was James, was the singer being okay.

A long moment later, the brunet finally lifted his head, the sexiest look on his face. His lips were parted, jaw slack, eyelids halfway down as though they were too heavy to hold up anymore. His eyes were still dark, a satisfied light gleaming in them, determination plastered on reddened features. Without another word, he moved his hand to the back of the blond's neck, crashing their lips together in a sloppy, heated kiss that spoke more of desperation than skill. He began moving his fingers again, in and out, the teen fucking back onto them.

Kendall pulled his head away, hardly able to breathe, sharp exhales leaving him in short bursts. James kept his hand on the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together, grinding his hips against the younger male's as the teen slipped his hand out, moving both to the elder's shoulders and fisting his tee.

Feeling the taller male come had pushed the shorter closer to his own orgasm than he thought and it was only a matter of a few seconds before he was painting his boxers once again. James' name repeatedly rolled of his lips like a prayer, like if he kept saying it, he'd keep coming, keep feeling that intense pleasure.

It was a long moment before Kendall was able to even begin to feel normal again. James had stilled his actions, but keep his hands in place, holding the teen to him. Like he was actually gonna fucking go anywhere. He was the one who got left, not the leaver. But he didn't say anything, just continued to try and regain a normal breathing pattern, just kept his eyes locked on the elder male's and tried to figure out what exactly was going on in the singer's head. His eyes held more emotions than colors, a strange mix the blond couldn't understand. Satisfaction, peace, fear, worry, confusion, need.

Instead of pondering it anymore, Kendall simply moved his head forward and kissed the brunet softly.

A small smile played on James' lips, a sigh leaving him as his eyes closed, pulling his hand out of Kendall's boxers and resting both on the smaller male's lower back. "What am I gonna do with you?" he spoke lowly, almost like he was asking himself more than the other male.

The blond knew it was a rhetorical question, knew it was deep, knew it was serious. He also knew that it wasn't exactly something he wanted to think about during his post-orgasmic bliss phase because more than likely, he wasn't gonna like he reasoning behind the inquiry. So he did as he usually did, made light of it, responded with a somewhat sarcastic statement.

"Fuck me in the hotel room after the show."

The singer laughed, eyes opening, sparkling once again, before his face went back to being serious. "Sounds good for now, but in the long run-" he trailed off.

The teen nodding, swallowing hard, knowing where the elder male had been going. It was a thought that had crossed his mind countless times that day, especially after that radio interview, something he knew they needed to discuss. And what better moment than when the two of them were alone, brains fuzzed out from coming, that moment when you were incapable of lying.

But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, a knock sounded on the door.

Kendall pulled his head back to glare at the wood, brain coming up with numerous creative ways to kill Logan using stage equipment and instruments. James' was calmer, more resolute as he turned his head and called out a "yeah?!"

"Five minutes to soundcheck!" was the assistant's muffled response, the singer giving an "okay" in response before turning back to the teen.

A small sigh left the elder male, thumbs rubbing the younger's back through his t-shirt, head hanging. "I need to get cleaned up."

Kendall just nodded, knowing he should do the same, wishing he had a pair of clean boxers with him. Not that he knew this was gonna happen-since knowing and hoping were two totally different things-but it still would've been handy.

The singer nodded, too, before kissing the teen sweetly, a simple pressing together of their lips for a few seconds before he pulled back, kissing the blond's nose before smacking his ass and extracting himself from his arms. The smaller male watched the larger head to his wardrobe case, pulling open a drawer and grabbing something, tossing it to the younger male. Kendall flipped the small plastic packet over in his hands, seeing the white words on the blue plastic that told him they were baby wipes. Raising his head, he cocked an eyebrow in question as he looked at the other male, seeing him pull out a second pack.

James simply shrugged. "No time for a shower and these seem to work when I need a quick clean before meeting fans."

Sounded logical, Kendall nodding in understanding as he opened his own pack and pulled out a wipe. The two males got cleaned up in silence, nothing to say. What could be said really? It wasn't like they had time to talk about what they seriously needed to discuss, nor would they have time after soundcheck. Everything was just gonna hafta wait.

Come cleaned off and wipes thrown away, the twosome headed to the door, ready to leave. But when Kendall reached for the knob, James grabbed his hand and stopped him.

The blond turned to the brunet, seeing his head was tilted down, eyes trained on their clasped hands as the singer entwined their fingers. It was a long moment before he lifted his head, those hazel orbs meeting green ones, brow furrowed in concentration.

The younger male stood there silently, waiting for whatever it was the elder wanted to say, feeling like it was gonna be pretty damn important. Had to be. Why else would he stop the teen from leaving? Why else would he not be able to hold off on telling it? Why else would he be standing there looking like he was trying to figure out the right words?

But, like always, nothing happened the way Kendall thought it would. Instead, James just swallowed hard, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he spoke.

"Thanks."

The younger male's brow furrowed in confusion before he let out a small laugh, smirk playing on his lips. "Anytime."

The brunet gave an uneasy smile, giving the blond's hand a squeeze before letting it go. The teen wanted to ask what the hell that was all about, what exactly the elder male was thanking him for, why he said it. Only he couldn't. That mask was back on the singer's face, expression hiding everything that had happened between the two of them in the dressing room as he left without a word.

Deja vu still sucked.


	25. Whole Lotta Questions Not Enough Answers

_**A/N: **__First of all, 500 REVIEWS OMFGWTFBBQ! That's just insane! Okay? INSAAAAANE! Can't believe I've managed to rope so many of you guys into my lil story but woot! Thanks to all of you who actually take the time to leave me a review, seriously makes my day so much fucking better! There's a bunch of you who review for every chapter and I swear I look for you every single time I post. Hope you keep coming back. Special shout-outs to Nath even though she hasn't reviewed the last two chapters for always believing in me and dealing with my annoying "OH MY GOD I AM SUCH A SHIT WRITER I GIVE UP ON EVERYTHING" moments and I'm sure I'm gonna get slapped one day for it. Also a shout-out to Lindaaaaaaa for her awesome fanart that I lurrrrrrve! And anyone else who's made fanart, just know that it makes me all spazzy and flail and so very very happy._

_Anyway, now for the bullshit as to why this took so long. See, this chapter is kinda short, and kinda so is the next one. But I wanted to finish 26 first so I could see its length and if I needed to put 'em together. But putting 'em together would just be one ginormous chapter and just... no. So yeah. Took a while but here it is. And yes, 26 is done, it's just handwritten and needs to be typed. So whenever I actually feel like dealing with my laptop and typing it, I'll do it._

_Next item of business, um... I guess ass-covering... blahblah iPhone. Blahblah Twitter. Blahblah Tumblr. Blahblah whateverthefuckelsethaticant remembernorbearsedtogolookup sodealwithit. Gonna end this because my notes are getting rambly again. Have a Palm Woods Day!_

* * *

This soundcheck was way different than the first one Kendall attended. For starters, his previous experience had taken place with him in the audience, sitting with his little sister as far from the center of the group as possible, determined not to be recognized by any other fans. Now he was at the side of the stage, away from the small crowd's eyes, Logan on his right as they both watched James sing his latest single along with his two guitarists. But it was more than just his location that was different, it was how he actually felt. He wasn't freaking out, wasn't panicked, wasn't anxious. Sure, he still had unanswered questions in the back of his mind-although they were different from the inquiries he had during the first soundcheck-but this time, he was able to relax and take it easy, knowing that he'd have time to get the answers later that night.

Needless to say he was able to enjoy the experience a whole lot more the second time around, able to actually hear the songs-totally not bobbing his head or lip-synching and there was definitely not any air guitar going on-able to listen to the Q&A session. Overall it was just way fucking better.

So, of course, something had to fuck it all up.

"Are you and that Kendall guy together? 'Cause my friend text me and said he was at the radio station with you earlier today."

He had no idea who asked the question, nor did he wanna know. All that mattered was that it had been voiced, was out there hanging in the air like a dark cloud, a storm brewing indoors. And all he could do was stand there and wait for the downpour to start.

Logan had gone completely rigid beside him, but the blond didn't pay attention to him, his eyes glued to the taller brunet, the one who'd been asked, the one who was sitting on the stage like a deer in a hunter's cross-hairs, the one who was finger-combing his bangs and clearing his throat before bringing the mike up to his mouth.

"He's a friend," James told the necessary lie, smoothly, effortlessly, so well that even Kendall believed it.

"So, you _aren't_ gay?"

Logan started muttering under his breath, a few blasphemies and a "butt out", the words barely noticed by the blond male.

The singer smiled his signature smile, let out a small laugh, seeming amused at the inquiry. "Nah, not gay." He pointed to another fan, asked if they had a question, essentially ending that topic of conversation, leaving it at what he'd said.

Kendall blew out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, released his death grip on his own left arm as it hung by his side, tried to force himself to relax and his brain to shut the fuck up. Technically James hadn't lied. Sure, he said he wasn't gay and while activities in the hotel suite and dressing room contradicted that, there was always a possibility that he was bi. So really he was half-gay. Or not picky, whatever he preferred to label himself as.

But still, that negative part of Kendall's brain kept nagging at him, filling his head with all sorts of bullshit. He might not have been the first fan to share a bed with the pop star. The singer still hasn't said anything about what was going on between the two of them. This could've just been a fling, something fun for James to do, a way to rebel against the fact that he was always told what to do and how to act. Kendall could've just been a way for the singer to have some sorta freedom, to do something he wasn't supposed to and to act naughty. What better way to go against your squeaky clean, good-boy-next-door image than to hook up with a metal-head underage dude?

Or maybe Kendall was just an experiment, a test, a safe way for James to see if he really was gay or bi or what-the-fuck-ever. The pop star couldn't be out there trolling the gay bars or clubs, couldn't be testing himself with any of the homosexual guys he'd regularly come in contact with, since all of that would be out in the open, the public knowing everything. So having a weekend with a fan who didn't seem all that likely to admit to having anything to do with James Diamond, International Pop Phenom, would be safe, would help him sort out his shit and not run the risk of being outted. He could figure out his feelings and his desires, or maybe even just give himself one weekend to indulge and get it out of his system for good before he settled down with a Victoria's Secret model like all famous singers should.

Leaving Kendall alone and in the cold that had nothing to do with the upcoming Minnesota winter, another crack in his already fractured heart.

Fucking awesome.

The blond smeared a hand over his face, shoving all those thoughts away, forcing himself to focus on James's next song. Only he couldn't. It was just like the first soundcheck when his head was elsewhere and all he could do was set himself up for disappointment. He really fucking hated his brain sometimes, really wished he could have some happy thoughts for once instead of always believing that everything would turn out horribly wrong.

'_Well experience says-_'

'_Oh fuck off already._'

A sigh escaped him as he folded his arms over his chest, eyes glued to James but his ears not listening. He wished things could be easy, that his life could be like some cheesy fucking fanfic where the pop star would sweep him off his feet and whisk him away with romantic confessions of never ending love and devotion, the two of them living out a perfect happily ever after together forever.

Too bad this was real life and not some made up story concocted by a loser writer with no life and nothing better to do than sit around on their ass all day with their laptop, dreaming up that sorta fantasy bullshit that'd never happen in a million fucking years.

But still, a guy could dream.

'_Dream all you want, pal. That shit still ain't happening._'

'_Right because the fanfic me wouldn't have such an asshole for a brain._'

'_You get what you deserve. Although that being said, you somehow managed to get a couple awesome friends who clearly should have a better pal than you, dickshit._'

He couldn't argue with that. Fuck knew Carlos and Camille had been there, supporting him, cheering for this relationship-type thing to happen between him and James. Yet he hadn't exactly returned the favor to either of them.

Slipping his phone out his pocket, he checked the time, figuring Camille would be outta school at that point. The meet-n-greet was up next, something Kendall figured would be better if he skipped. Maybe he could call her then in the privacy of the dressing room, get her clear-headed take on things and an honest answer on what she thought was going on. If anyone could get through his thick ass skull and shut those negative ideas up, it would be her.

He shoved his phone back down into his pocket, feeling like he was being watched. Turning his head to the right, he saw he was correct, Logan's brown eyes looking up at him, brow furrowed, lips twisted. Kendall cocked an eyebrow, mouthing a "what?", only getting a head shake in return. Jesus fucking Christ was that annoying. It was like the assistant and the pop star had this big inside joke and they weren't letting the teen know the punchline. Fucking rude, not to mention aggravating as shit.

The Q&A session ended soon after, no further questions about James' romantic status, sexuality, or relationship to "That Kendall Dude". The singer rose from his stool, gave the crowd his usual "see you guys soon" accompanied by a smile and a wave, before walking over to where Kendall and Logan stood waiting. The blond shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, trying to keep them from grabbing hold of the brunet, knowing that any little thing would be blown way outta proportion and become a giant deal in the eyes of the fandom. They already freaked the fuck out over James bringing a guy onstage; then there was the freak out over that same guy showing back up at a different show months later. Now it was that same guy appearing in a totally different town two time zones away. Fuck only knew what would happen if that same guy was spotted hugging the singer or holding his hand.

So clearly, keeping his hands to himself was the best-and only-option. And since Kendall kinda had issues doing that when it came to James, he needed to keep them trapped in a denim prison.

'Course that didn't stop the rest of his body from going haywire from just the pop star's close proximity, stomach flipping and clenching, heart pounding, skin tingling. The smirk James gave didn't help shit, neither did the stretch the singer did that caused his shirt to rise up, revealing an inch or two of tan skin, taut muscle, and a happy trail the teen wanted to lick on his way down before taking the singer's cock and-

Whoa! Okay, add 'dick twitching' to the list of Shit His Body Was Doing Because James Was Less Than a Foot Away.

The brunet dropped his arms from behind his head, adjusted his shirt around his waist, licked his lips. Which caused the blond to tilt his head down, eyes turned to the ground before he started thinking about what else the elder male could put his tongue on.

Too late.

"So, I guess we gotta head to the meet-n-greet," the singer stated, the sound of skin being scratched hitting the teen's ears.

"Actually, uh," Kendall started, his voice slightly rough. He cleared his throat as he lifted his head, rubbing the back of his neck, taking in the curious look on the slightly taller male's face. "I thought I'd just hang in the dressing room, lay low. Probably better if I stayed outta sight."

James pursed his lips as he took in the younger's words, nodding slowly, folding his arms over his broad chest and making his already large biceps bulge out even more. The blond tore his eyes away, made himself think of something other than how it felt to have those muscular arms wrapped around him and hold him close, made himself pay attention to Logan instead. The assistant's lips were somewhat turned down in a thoughtful pout, eyebrows raised, almost seeming impressed by what the teen had said.

"That might be a good idea," the short male commented, scratching his neck under the collar of his blue button-down. "The fans already think there's something going on between the two of you, especially after Kendall showed up at the station. If he were at the meet-n-greet, too, it would add more to the rumors and seem like you were an actual couple."

The blond tilted his head down once again, left hand rubbing the back of his neck as the smaller male's words repeated in his head. "_seem like_ a couple", meaning they actually _weren't_ one. Which was slightly confusing, considering the fact that only a few hours ago, Logan had referred to Kendall as "the guy James was dating". And, okay, "couple" and "dating" were two different things, two thing he wasn't sure actually applied to him and the pop star. But whatever the case, the assistant was now implying that the other brunet and the blond weren't an item, something the teen knew was the truth, but still hurt to actually hear out loud.

"You gonna be okay?"

It took Kendall a few seconds to realize James' question had been aimed at him, lifting his head with a "hmm?", another few seconds taken to then realize the singer meant okay with being by himself for a period of time while the meet-n-greet went on, and not anything to do with what the younger male had been thinking about. But before he could reassure the pop star he'd be fine, Logan spoke up.

"I can skip a day of helping out," he volunteered, turning towards the blond. "Hang out with you, keep you company."

The teen had to put forth a conscious effort to not yell out a "fuck no!", to not overreact or seem panicked or some shit like that. So far, hanging out with Logan had meant lectures, instructions to behave and to cool shit with James down. He really didn't wanna deal with that shit again, didn't wanna deal with it in the first place really. Plus he couldn't talk to Camille about shit with someone else in the room.

"Nah, it's cool," the blond stated, both hands shoved in his jeans pockets, shoulders relaxed. "I got a phone call to make anyway."

The other two males both nodded, probably assuming he needed to call his mom to check in, not his best female friend to get advice. Probably better that way. Talking to someone about his situation with James would probably seem suspicious as fuck, like he was bragging, sharing everything with the world, only in it so he could tell people he hooked up with a celeb.

Freight Train walked over, informing them that James needed to go, that he was starting to run late. Kendall said his goodbyes, watching them walk away, the brunet all business, his professional pop star face on, fingers combing his bangs, smoothing his tee. The blond waited until they were outta sight before heading in the opposite direction, following the signs to the dressing room.

He entered the empty room, shutting the door behind himself, then took his iPhone out his pocket, seeing countless alerts. Camille had tried to contact him using every possible method: tweet, DM, Tumblr message, Tumblr post he was tagged in, text, and one loud ass voicemail, all of them conveying the same statement: "_CALL ME!_"

Kendall wondered what was so fucking important, so fucking huge that it needed _that_ amount of urgency, coming up with the answer soon after: the radio interview. Chances were pretty high that a fan had recorded it and it was all over Tumblr, meaning she'd heard James say he wasn't dating anyone. And knowing her, with the information she had, the truth she knew, it was likely she was concerned for Kendall and how he was feeling about what had been said.

But the more likely possibility for her to immediately speak to him was because she knew he was with James. The whole fucking fandom probably was aware, judging by that question during soundcheck.

Shit.

After making sure all the alerts were cleared away, Kendall dialed up Camille, getting an answer after only one ring.

"_The entire fandom is freaking out!_"

He cocked an eyebrow as he sat down on the couch, slumping, legs spread wide, free left arm laying over his torso. "Hello to you, too, Cam."

"_Huh? Oh, right, hi, whatever._" The greeting was rushed, her impatience still in control, still evident, especially since she immediately shifted back to the original topic. "_The fandom's losing its collective shit._"

A sigh left him as he leaned his head back against the couch, face turned up towards the ceiling. "Yeah, kinda figured they would be," he stated, fingers playing with his tee at his side. "They know I was at the station, huh?"

"Y_up. There's a couple pics floating around of you guys entering and leaving,_" she stated, Kendall muttering out a "fuck" before she continued. "_And everyone's pissed at James, saying he lied during that interview and that something is_ clearly _going on between you guys if you're suddenly with him in a different state._"

The blond rubbed his forehead, kinda hating this situation. He knew the singer couldn't just tell people he'd been talking to a guy for a li'l while and had flown him out so they could finally fuck-at least that's how it felt at the moment-not without outting himself or seeming like a sleaze. But he wished the fans wouldn't be such assholes or be pissed about it. Technically, James hadn't lied about anything, wasn't really holding anything back. Too bad the public didn't-and couldn't-know that.

"_And speaking of being pissed,_" Camille went on, getting Kendall's attention back. "_Why didn't you tell me you were in my hometown?_"

'_Because I had no idea where the fuck you live,_' he thought, dropping his arm back across his waist. And it was the truth. He knew she lived in SoCal, just had no clue what city.

But he couldn't say that out loud, instead giving a different, but still honest, answer. "I didn't even know where I was going 'til I got on the plane."

"_Wait, so you just randomly hopped on a flight with no clue where you were going?_"

"More or less."

"_Why?_"

'_Damn good question,_' his mind commented, his fingers playing with his wallet chains now. "Because James asked me, too," he stated lowly, staring down at his lap as he gave the only explanation he could think of, the only one that made sense. "He said he missed me and needed me there. I said I missed him, too, and then he asked if I'd fly out to where he was. Didn't even hesitate before saying 'yes'."

There was a long pause, nothing coming down the phone line for a moment or two, before Camille finally said a quiet "_wow_".

Kendall wasn't entirely sure what to say in response. Now that he'd told what happened, had spoken it out loud, he realized how crazy it seemed. Well, probably crazy to anyone on the outside, but his and James' mantra kept repeating in his head: "_Be crazy together_". They sure as shit were living up to it at that moment.

The blond cleared his throat, shifting his seat, pulling at his jeans on his thighs, waiting for Camille to say something other than "wow". He needed to hear that he wasn't nuts, that what he'd done wasn't totally absurd and insane and stupid, that anyone else would've done the same if they were in his shoes. He also needed to hear about a million other fucking things, from both her _and_ James, but he'd settle for that for the time being.

It felt like forever, but was probably only a few seconds, but Camille started talking again. "_Guess you guys are really serious then, huh?_"

"That's the thing," Kendall started, staring down at his thumb as it rubbed a link on his wallet chain. "I honestly have no fucking clue what's going on between us."

"_You haven't talked about it?_"

"No," he spat out, dropping his chain onto his thigh harshly before wrapping his arm around his torso. "Every time I try to ask we get interrupted or we, uh-" He shifted in his seat again, cleared his throat, rubbed the back of his neck, totally uncomfortable that he was once again discussing his sex life. "We'd get distracted. With. Other stuff."

"_You guys have fucked already?!_"

Jesus fucking Christ, she was blunt as hell. He smeared a hand over his face, eyes closed, so not wanting to deal with that aspect of their conversation. "No, we haven't fucked."

"_Yet._"

The corner of his lips twisted up, hand dropping to his stomach. "Yet."

She giggled down the phone line before getting serious once more. "_So. You have no idea what's going on between you guys other than a desire to fuck each other._"

A sad sigh escaped past his lips, green eyes turned down. "Yeah, pretty much. Which was why I was gonna call you when I got a chance."

"_Because you're confused as to what's going on between you guys._" Statement, not a question. "_One minute he's saying he misses and needs you, next he's telling the world there's no one special in his life._"

"Moment after that he's holding me in his bed and saying I belong in his arms."

That. Fucking. Squeal.

"_That is_ so _cute!_"

His jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. "No. Not cute."

"_Totally cute._"

"No. Stop. Now."

She just giggled again, adding to his annoyance at that fucking word, then she grew serious once more. "_All right, I'll stop. But seriously, that's really sweet and I can totally see why you're confused. That's a whole lotta mixed signals._"

Kendall nodded, forgetting she couldn't see, hand resting on top of his beanie-covered head. Thank fuck someone else thought this shit was confusing, that it wasn't just him being retarded or anything. And she didn't even know everything, hadn't even been told the whole story yet. He needed about three years to explain all that shit. But since he didn't have that kinda time-

"_Shit, I gotta go._"

Kendall sat up straight, letting out a panicked "What?! No!" as his free hand dropped to his lap. "I need to talk to you."

"_I know, I know,_" Camille replied, sounding torn, guilty, like she wanted to stay and talk but couldn't. "_I swear I wanna help but I hafta get back to school for my play._"

The blond sighed again, head hanging, nodding. He was being left again. "Yeah. I getcha. It's cool."

"_Yeah,_" her voice was small, seeming to feel bad. "_James is off tomorrow, right?_"

He cocked an eyebrow as he lifted his head, confused about the change of subject and what the fuck that had to do with anything. "Yeah. Why?"

"_You guys traveling?_"

"I think in the afternoon or something. Why?"

"_One: there's no way you and I can be in the same town and _not_ meet up. And two: so we can talk about everything and maybe sort this shit out._"

Both eyebrows raised as he considered it, wondering if he would even have the chance to do just that or if his day was scheduled out. "I dunno if I can. I'll hafta check what's happening tomorrow."

"_All right. Just text me when you find out, 'kay?_"

"Sure, no problem."

The two exchanged goodbyes, the call ending, Kendall staring down at his iPhone. He debated for a long moment before opening his Tumblr app, scrolling through his dash and reading various posts about James and "That Kendall Guy", seeing pics of himself outside the radio station. It was just like Camille had said, some fans pissed that James was lying and pretending he was single, others defending the singer and reminding people he was straight and chances were nothing was happening. But there were still a few fans who were stating they wanted something to be going on between the two males, how they hoped they were a couple, how they shipped Kames. Fans like Camille.

But all he could focus on was the confusion the fandom was feeling and expressing, no one sure what was going on between James and "That Kendall Guy". Seemed like everyone was lost when it came to the relationship between the two males, so he wasn't alone in that.

Lifting his head, he looked around the empty room, hearing the distant sounds of people walking up and down the hall, conversations happening, laughter hitting his ears. Then again, maybe he _was_ as alone as he thought he was.


	26. Green Isn't Anyone's Color

_**A/N: **__What?! An update in a timely manner?! _Shock!Gasp!Awe!_ Okay, but seriously, this chapter was handwritten in my notebook right when I did chapter twenty-five; it was just a matter of finding time/a fuck to actually type it up. Which, VOILA! It happened. \ (^u^) /_

_Part of this chapter was planned, another part was my characters taking over again (thanks, _James_.) but it works out. And I know it's short, but stuff happens! Yay stuff! Trying not to give it away._

_Tumblr is property of David CreeperDude. iPhone is property of Apple and not me, which is whatever, I can still send perverted iMessages to my bestie who doesn't even blink when I send her a pic of James in a cowboy hat and the words "SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY HE NEEDS TO BE INSIDE ME RIGHT NOW OMFG THE FUCKING MASSHOLE!" But considering the shit she sends me about Sidney Crosby, she owes me._

_I'm getting rambly again. It's either too much coffee or not enough. But ew at actual sugar in it. Sweetener all the way! But the universe clearly hates me and we are out of Splenda and I'm rambling again. Sorry._

_Enjoy the update! :D_

* * *

A knock on the door caused Kendall's head to snap up, eyes torn away from his iPhone and Tumblr app, the green orbs now focused on the wooden portal. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him he'd been messing on the site longer than he thought, lost in fandom drama. Always fucking fun, especially when you're involved without actually _being_ involved. Whatever. That made sense in his head.

He closed down the app, locking his phone, as he called out a "yeah?" Sliding the device in his pocket, he looked up to see the door open and Logan reveal himself.

"Meet-n-greet's over," he stated, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. "We're gonna have dinner at catering so-" He trailed off, not bothering to finish the invite, leaving it open and unspoken.

"Cool." The blond nodded, rising to his feet, pulling his pants up at his hips. His wallet chains jangled, boots scuffed the floor, as he walked over to the shorter male.

The assistant moved out the way, allowing the teen to leave the room. The elder male closed the door before heading down the hall on the younger's left side, repeatedly lifting his head and looking at the taller male. Finally, the blond had enough, turning to look back at the shorter guy, eyebrow raised.

"What?" Okay, the word was kinda barked out, but the dude kept staring and it was fucking weird.

Logan's eyes widened-although Kendall wasn't sure if it was because of the teen's tone or because he'd been busted-his head shaking rapidly as he quickly tried to pretend he hadn't been doing what he was caught doing. "Nothing," he lied, smoothing his hair down at the back of his head, seeming a li'l awkward. But being busted would do that to a guy. Well, except for Kendall but he was another story entirely. "Just-" Logan started then stopped, sliding his hand back in his pocket, thumbs sticking out, head turned straight ahead. "Nice hickey."

A smirk formed on the blond's face, proud to be sporting the mark, proud to have been claimed by James, the memories of the act that had created it making his skin hot and his dick twitch. He quickly pushed those flashbacks to the side, knowing a boner at that moment would be both inconvenient and suspicious, not to mention awkward as fuck. Facing forward, he kept up the cheeky grin, letting out a "thanks", knowing the shorter male hadn't meant his comment in a complimentary way.

He saw Logan's eye roll in his peripheral vision, his smirk growing, the asshole side of him amused at the possibility that he had annoyed someone. And judging by the tenseness of Logan's jaw, the thin line his lips were pressed into, the hardness in his eyes, he was definitely irritated.

"Wanna make it more obvious that there's something going on?" the brunet grumbled, barely audible as he glared straight ahead at nothing.

The blond furrowed his brow, smirk gone as confusion took over his features, head turning and tilting down to look at the shorter male. "Huh?"

"Nothing." More muttering. Fuck, did this guy ever actually speak out loud? Or fucking stick with what he said or did?

Feeling aggravated himself, Kendall stepped in front of Logan, forcing the assistant to stop walking. "What the fuck is your problem?"

The elder male shrugged as he folded his arms over his chest, hard brown eyes looking up at questioning green ones. "At the moment? You."

The confusion stayed, the teen's brow furrowed once again. He knew it wasn't because he was in the other guy's way, since he was pissy before that. Hell, he'd been kinda pissy pretty much since Kendall had arrived, which led the blond to believe the brunet was generally just annoyed by the younger male's presence, by him being around James and taking all the singer's free time and attention. And really, there could only be one reason for that.

"Look," Kendall started, trying his best to be diplomatic, using the same tone he did when trying to get Carlos to alibi him because that's what best friends do or making deal with Katie to cover his ass in exchange for doing her chores or a li'l financial gain. "If you're pissed at me 'cause _you_ wanna be with James, then I-"

He didn't finish. Logan had started laughing, dimples forming from an amused smile.

What the fuck?

Lost once again, the blond folded his arms over his chest, face serious. "I fail to see what the fuck is so funny."

The brunet stopped laughing, but continued smiling. "Dude, James is like a brother to me. And even if he wasn't, I'm straight. There's definitely _nothing_ romantic going on between us."

The taller male was still baffled as his body language remained the same, mind wishing he could get an answer out of someone, _anyone_, and not constantly have to deal with all this fucking aggravation. "Then what's your problem with me?"

Logan's smile faltered, face falling into a solemn expression before he swallowed. "You could ruin a lotta things James has worked had to create."

Kendall's face reflected the other male's, his voice low, grave, serious. "I'm not gonna out him."

"I'm not talking about his career or image."

The teen became confused once more, eyebrows scrunched up for the five hundredth time, lips pursed as he struggled to figure out what the elder male was referring to. But before he could say anything, James appeared out of seemingly nowhere, standing between the other two males.

"What's going on?" He tried keeping his voice light, playful, like everything was okay and he wasn't worried 'bout a damn thing. But the apprehension was fully evident in his eyes, obvious in the tenseness of his muscles, the tightness around the small fake grin he was sporting. He was freaking out over the convo between Kendall and Logan, the blond could tell. And with the hostile looks they'd been exchanging, the hardness in their body language, it wasn't much of a surprise really.

"Nothing," the short brunet covered up, turning and looking up at his best friend, easy smile on his face like he truly didn't have a care in the world. The blond wondered what other shit the assistant hid from the singer. "Just warning Kendall not to get between you and food."

The taller male's body language changed, muscles relaxing, smile becoming more genuine as his eyes sparkled in mischief. "Growing boy's gotta eat, Logie," he stated in all seriousness, hand on the shorter's shoulder.

Logan rolled his eyes, swatting the hand away. "Only thing growing on you is your head," he commented, walking around the singer and taking the few steps necessary to reach the double doors Kendall assumed led to catering.

James turned his attention to the blond, shaking his head and smirking. "Steal an extra piece of cake _one time_-"

"It was _my_ piece!" the assistant called over, fingers wrapped around the door handle and pulling. "On _my_ birthday!" With one last aggravated look at the other males, he opened the door and disappeared inside the room.

The singer simply shrugged, like he didn't see the big deal or why it was such an issue, still focused on the teen in front of him. "C'mon," he started, motioning to the side with his head. "Let's go eat before Mommy Logie nags."

Kendall chuckled, corner of his lips curving up slightly in a small smirk of sorts. Turning around, he made his way toward the doors Logan had walked through, feeling the palm of James' hand burning between his shoulder blades. He figured it was supposed to be a safe touch, one that didn't seem suspicious to anyone else, wouldn't raise eyebrows or cause anyone to question anything. But knowing what those hands were capable of made the gesture not so innocent to him, his skin on fire where he was being touched, despite the layer of cotton in the way.

The blond took hold of the door handle, feeling the brunet's hand trail down, fingers lightly feeling his spine and causing goosebumps to form on his skin, his inhale to get shaky, before the touch was gone completely. Clearing his throat, the teen opened the door and entered the room, the pop star soon following.

Catering was a room with blue curtains for walls, filled with half a dozen or so round tables, one long one to the side covered with rectangular pans of food, a lot like a buffet. Kendall grabbed a styrofoam plate, putting a few pieces of fried chicken and a handful-okay, _two_ handfuls of potato wedges on it, looking up to see Logan's disapproving face.

Debbie Downer much?

"What?"

"Aren't you gonna have any veggies?" Was this dude for real?

James stood on the other side of the assistant, rolling his eyes and mouthing the word "Mom" to the blond, who tried to hide his amusement. Picking up a wedge, he held it up for the shorter brunet to see.

"It's made of potato, which is vegetable," he stated, smiling smugly before popping it in his mouth.

The elder male just sighed, muttering something about having to "deal with two of them now". His best friend just chuckled, patting the smaller guy's back before putting a roll on his plate and one between his teeth, somehow managing to say "carb day" around it.

The threesome soon made their way to an empty table, Freight Train joining them not too long after with two overloaded plates of his own. Which Logan didn't comment on, the li'l prick. Then again, considering the bodyguard's size, it was probably pretty damn smart to leave the giant and his feeding trough alone.

The low din of conversation buzzed around Kendall, band and crew members all enjoying their own supper and chatting. Silence was a fifth member at his own table, no one really speaking, more focused on eating. And while the blond wished dinners at home would be more like that, wished his mom wasn't so determined to actually make her kids converse during the meal, in his current setting, it was unnerving. But it wasn't like he could bring up any of the topics he wanted to discuss, not with so many people around, not when it was meant to be a private talk between himself and James.

Then again, there was one thing he could ask.

"What're we doing tomorrow?" he questioned the two brunets, noting how the singer turned to the assistant to answer.

"Off-day," Logan answered from his seat across from the blond.

The teen nodded, chewing then swallowing before he spoke again. "What time are we leaving town?"

This made the shorter male's facial expression change, a mix of suspicion and curiosity. "After dinner. Why?"

Kendall shrugged, drinking out of his cola can, putting it back on the table. "Just wondering. Was hoping I could meet up with a friend in town for a bit."

"What kinda friend?" The question came from James, a harsh edge to his words.

The blond turned his head to the right, to the taller brunet, seeing the hard lines on his face, his eyes narrowed, jaw tense. Scanning the singer's form, he could see the muscles were taut, fists clenched, body hard. Someone was jealous. Very interesting.

"Female friend," the teen replied. "_Just_ a friend." When he didn't get any sorta response, other than a slow stiff nod, he continued. "I was just hoping I could meet her for coffee or something, but if not, that's cool."

That mask he had grown to hate slid back into place, the emotions that had been swirling in his eyes, unable to be figured out, now disappeared. The elder male shrugged, poking at his green beans with his disposable fork, staring down at his food as he acted like it wasn't a big deal, like he didn't give a shit either way. Fucking weird.

Logan turned his head and attention to his best friend, his own face a myriad of feelings, the most prevalent seeming to be worry. And it didn't seem to change when the singer looked at him and shook his head, a silent "let it go" that was reluctantly followed. The shorter male sighed, resignation on his face, as he shifted his focus to the teen across the table from him.

"I don't see any problem with it," the assistant commented, wiping his fingers on a paper napkin.

"Yeah. Me neither," James added rather snappily, dropping his plastic fork onto his styrofoam plate with more force than necessary. "Go. Have fun. Tell me all about it when you get back." Slamming his hands on the table, he shoved his chair back as he stood, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. Eyes hard but face flat, he gave one last glare to Kendall before turning and heading to the door, leaving the room.

The shorter brunet turned to the blond, contrition all over his face. "Sorry 'bout James. He's a bit-"

Kendall didn't hear the rest of it. He'd shot up from his seat and headed after James.

He caught up with the pop star in the hallway a few yards later, not hesitating to grab hold of the elder male's wrist and drag him off, gritting out a "come with me" as he stomped along. He didn't care who saw or how it looked or any other bullshit. He just knew he was pissed. Pissed at the singer covering his feelings, pissed he'd stormed off, pissed at a lotta shit really, but mostly at James.

Reaching the dressing room, the blond pulled the brunet into it, closing the door behind them both.

The singer stopped in the middle of the room, turning to glare at the teen, not bothering to keep the annoyance off his face. "Dude, what the fuck is your deal?"

"_My_ deal?" the smaller male snapped back, hand on his chest. "_I'm_ not the one who stormed out in the middle of dinner."

"I don't have time to deal with this," the brunet stated, dismissing the conversation. Or at least trying to. "I gotta get ready for the show."

"No!" The blond stepped forward, pointing at the other male. "You fuckin' _do_ have time and we're fuckin' talking about this right fuckin' now."

James huffed, arms folded over his chest, jaw jutting out, clearly pissed. But Kendall didn't give a shit. He'd meant what he said; they were dealing with that shit at that exact moment.

The younger mimicked the other male's position, letting it be known that he wasn't backing down, wasn't letting this go as easily as everything else. The singer couldn't hang up, couldn't ignore phone calls, couldn't disappear for a couple days then randomly ring the teen up. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He was fucking dealing with it, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the teen questioned, green eyes hard as he stared the other male down, done kowtowing, done doing whatever it was the taller male wanted. "All I'm asking for is an hour, out of the entire weekend, just to meet up with a _friend_. There's as much romance between me and her as you with those chicks you bring onstage."

Okay, he totally hadn't meant to use that analogy. It just slipped out. But it was pretty perfect really: it was a good way to get it through James' thick fucking head that there was nothing between him and Camille, and also a sneaky way for Kendall to find out if his experience being brought onstage was unique, if he was the only one who'd ever felt that spark, that connection.

Something flashed on the pop star's face, understanding, and something else the teen couldn't figure out. But his features softened, his body language no longer as tense, seeming more relaxed and at ease, as well as... reluctant?

His hand went up, fingers combing his bands, eyes looking anywhere but at the other male in the room. "There was one time," he started then trailed off.

Oh. Shit. Kendall dropped his arms, hands gripping his jeans at his hips as he tried to seem at ease, tried not to make it obvious that he was internally freaking out, that his stomach was in knots, that his heart had stopped in anticipation of another break.

The singer swallowed hard, arms folded over his chest once again, only not in a defensive way. This time, it seemed more like he was holding himself together. His eyes were scared, worried, but they finally met the blond's as he spoke lowly. "You were the only one that I've ever felt like I _needed_ to bring onstage, the only one I was pulled to, the only one that I actually _felt_ something with. Nothing's ever come close. Doubt anything will."

The blond didn't need to hear anything else. He closed the distance between them, grabbed hold of the brunet's face, and pressed his lips to the other male's hard.

James didn't hesitate to kiss back, right arm wrapping around the smaller male's waist, left hand cupping the back of Kendall's beanie covered head. And while the feel of the larger body against his was slowly becoming familiar, the teen couldn't help but think this kiss was different than the others. Yeah, it still blew his mind, made his skin tingle and his internal organs quit their basic functions, but it wasn't as rushed, wasn't as sexually driven, wasn't about trying to turn the other on or get him off. This was a slow burn, a warmth that spread over him, like sitting next to a fire rather than being inside it. The singer was moving his lips in a slow rhythm, holding the younger male carefully, tenderly, like he was something precious, but at the same time, making sure Kendall couldn't be taken from him, couldn't leave.

Flashes of an earlier conversation came to the teen's mind, memories of a phone call, of a quiet serious chat inside a grocery store break room, confessions that were heavier than the boxes he was sometimes asked to pick up and cart around to be stored.

"_You have me._"

"_That might be scarier than not having you at all._"

The blond moved his hands, arms going around the brunet, pressing himself closer, proving that he wasn't going anywhere, showing the singer he had nothing to worry about. If anyone was gonna leave, it would be the elder.

Refusing to think about that, he focused on the kiss, on the physical sensations. He thought about how James' lips were softer yet rough from where he chewed on his own bottom one. He thought about the fingers gripping his tee at his back in desperation, in a need to hold on. He thought about the bandana resting against the sensitive skin of his neck, soft, worn in from being wrapped around the pop star's wrists on a daily basis. He thought how warm, safe, even loved he felt in the larger male's embrace and how he never wanted to leave it.

The kiss slowly ended, James tugging Kendall's bottom lip one last time, giving a few soft pecks, kissing the teen's nose once before pressing their foreheads together. A grave expression was on his face, a storm of emotions swirling in hazel-green eyes, countless unspoken words floating around, just waiting for him to locate his tongue-and/or balls-and say them. But instead, he just closed his eyes, both arms holding the other male close, as he swallowed hard.

Nothing was said. Nothing _needed_ to be said really. They had each other and that was enough.

For the moment.

* * *

James was killing it onstage. Not much of a fucking surprise really. It was like the guy had been born to perform, created solely to make females-and some males-lose their minds with incredible vocal range and subliminally sexual dance moves. At least that's how it seemed to Kendall, whose theory only grew more concrete watching the show from a closer range, back in his earlier spot at the side of the stage with Logan.

The assistant seemed more at ease, head bobbing, foot tapping, mouthing the words to the songs. He also seemed to be interacting with Kendall more, commenting on how James always messed up the same line in one particular song-which he did pretty much right on cue-or how bad one of the guitarists was-which he was god-fucking-awful. And while he still appeared to be wary of the teen and his actions, the elder male was at least more relaxed, more open to forming some sorta friendship, something the blond would usually find annoying as fuck.

But the younger male's usual habit of being cold and trying to rebuff anyone trying to become pals with him wasn't gonna work in this situation. Being in a relationship with James meant being around those who traveled with him, including his best friend/personal assistant. So Kendall made nice, laughing at the flubbed line and agreeing over the guitarist's lack of skill, tried holding up his end of the convo as best he could, given the booming music surrounding them.

And he actually did a damn good job of actually being social, the two even exchanging a couple laughs, up until James headed into the audience.

Kendall's first two James Diamond concerts were experienced with himself in the crowd, anxious over whether or not the pop star would acknowledge him in some way. Now it was an anxiety over whether or not something bad would happen to the singer, if some whack job would try to hold him hostage or hurt him or worse. But a hand on his shoulder pulled his attention away, stopped the internal freak out, Logan standing on his tiptoes to get closer to the teen's ear.

"Relax! Freight Train's got him!"

The blond nodded, forcing the corner of his lips to curve up in a smile of sorts, still worried as fuck but trying to hide it this time. It got better when James came down the aisle closer to Kendall's side, where he got a better look at the brunet, but didn't fully dissipate until the singer was back on the stage. Then the worry turned into something else entirely different as he caught sight of the girl joining the pop star.

Okay, Kendall knew it was gonna happen, knew that pretty much for the rest of his career, James was gonna bring a fan onstage. But that didn't help the jealous, possessive feeling from narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists at the sight of the guy he was into holding hands-albeit hands cupped and _not_ fingers laced-with some random chick.

He made himself zone out, to not pay attention to the show in front of him, reminding himself of what had happened in the dressing room only an hour or so before. He thought about how the singer kissed him like he never wanted to stop, held him like he was something valuable, told the teen he was the only one he'd ever felt something for during that song.

Feeling more calm and way less jealous, Kendall was able to watch the current rendition that was being sung. He was able to see that the girl was probably in her early teens and experiencing the greatest moment of her life so far, not to mention close to hysterical. But James was great, not freaked or uncomfortable, no wide eyes or "the fuck do I do now?" looks. He remained calm, sweet, rubbing her back in soothing circles, pulling her in for one-armed hugs during vocal breaks. There was nothing romantic or anything like how it'd been with the blond. If anything, it looked like like how the singer was with Katie.

The blond thought about how the brunet treated his sister, the easy interactions, the way he was able to make her laugh and just be a kid, the phone call on her birthday, the ability to get her to smile. It was small, simple things, but they added up to something huge. And as he watched the singer with the fangirl, he didn't bother fighting the grin that formed on his face, one that was returned when the pop star glanced over and met his eyes.

'_I could so fall in love with you and you have no idea._'

The belief of that didn't scare Kendall as much as he thought it would. Probably because he knew he was already halfway in love with James.

If not more.


	27. Starting to Actually Like Dressing Rooms

_**A/N: **__Almost named this chapter "My Characters Shouldn't Be Left Alone in Dressing Rooms, Like, Ever", but clearly couldn't do that._

_Anyway, this is the part where I tell you about how I had other shit planned for this, but these assholes took over and I just write whatever it is they do, which is not what I want them to do... cause they're assholes... Whatever. This chapter is still great. AndIpromisetheywillhavesexso onnotmyfault_

_sorry._

_Blahblah iPhone, blahblah Tumblr, blahblah whateverelse. I dunno. Just know that whatever is referenced in here is used with love (I'm pretty sure) and please don't sue. I'm broke._

* * *

The rest of the show went amazing, James flawless on stage, Kendall enjoying every second of it. When it was over, the singer exchanged high fives and "great job"s with his band backstage, guzzling water and toweling the sweat off his face. The blond stood to the side, watching the scene unfolding before him, smile on his face as he took in the brunet. James was practically beaming, huge grin on his face, exuding pure joy at a job well done, his love of music shining through. It was a look the pop star wore well, one that suited him perfectly, one that belonged on his unmarred features.

And the more the younger male looked at the elder, the more he grew to realize the singer's post-concert appearance was pretty much identical to his post-orgasm look: same messy hair, same sheen of sweat, same reddened cheeks. He was even smiling and panting the same way. And it made sense, considering the amount of energy he put into the show, the adrenaline and the rush caused by performing, not to mention dance moves that consisted of him shaking his hips and humping the air.

Kendall shifted in his spot, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, feeling slightly outta place and more than a little turned on. James exuded sex just by breathing, but watching him onstage, rolling his pelvis, thrusting, moving sensually-plus his ass in those jeans, holy shit!-just added to the arousing effect he had on the teen. Combined with the week worth of phone sex, the fooling around they'd done that day, and the knowledge that they were getting closer to being left alone for several uninterrupted hours in the hotel suite and the teen felt like he'd fucking explode if he didn't get something inside him soon. Other than the singer's fingers, of course.

His green eyes automatically went to the pop star's digits, seeing them wrapped around a water bottle as he drank deeply. The blond's hole twitched at the memory of those fingers sliding in and out, rubbing against his walls, getting him off that way. He imagined those same fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking, getting him off while the brunet pounded into his ass.

Okay, that mental scene needed to stop playing before his boxers got any messier. His dick was already wet and aching and probably more than a little pissed that it wasn't getting any attention at that exact moment.

But, of course, instead of finding a distraction, his eyes came across the elder male licking his lips, totally not fucking helping. The younger had to bite his bottom lip in order to stop any inappropriate noises from slipping out, tilting his head down to hide any facial signs of arousal. He needed to calm the fuck down, needed his body to relax, needed to think unsexy thoughts in order to wipe away the obvious sexual desire he was ninety-nine percent sure he was showing.

A hot hand pressed between his shoulder blades, one he was beginning to recognize the feel of. Heated blood raced through his veins, skin tingling more, and all he could think about was that hand drifting down, down, down...

"You ready to go?"

'_Fuck yes, get me naked_ please,' was what he thought. What he actually did was nod, lifting his head to meet the singer's eyes, seeing how dark they'd become, lids heavy. And considering the place was all lit up, a lack of light was clearly not the cause of the orbs' color change.

Kendall's tongue darted out on its own, licking his lips, his bottom one stinging from where he bit down too hard moments before.

James inhaled sharply, a move that went unnoticed by everyone else, other band and crew members either having walked off or in conversations of their own. Which, thank fuck, 'cause there was pretty much no way to explain the singer's reaction or the tenseness in his body, the way he looked like a coiled snake ready to spring, to snatch up his prey and consume it. He exhaled slowly through parted lips, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and the teen had a feeling that if it weren't for all the other people around them or the fact that they were currently in a semi-public place where anyone could happen upon them, then he'd be pinned up against a wall with a tongue in his mouth that wasn't his own.

Yeah, they needed to be alone, like, _now_.

Apparently the brunet was thinking along those same lines, letting out a rushed "okay, let's go, dressing room", his voice a little rough, a sexy huskiness to it that could be interpreted as either a result of singing for over an hour or arousal. The blond would've put money on the latter.

With another nod, Kendall followed the other male down the hall, into the dressing room, closing the door behind himself. James had barely even turned around before the teen had a hold of his face, crashing their lips together in a heated kiss, one that was immediately returned. The younger took control, pushing the elder back against the wall, slamming their hips together. Both males let out groans at the feel of the other's erection, pelvises grinding, the rough friction of denim on denim causing them both to breathe heavily.

It soon got to be too much, lips pulling apart but hard cocks still rubbing together. The blond's hands slipped to the brunet's shoulders, gripping hard onto the sweaty black v-neck as they locked eyes. James lifted his hand, two fingers held straight by Kendall's mouth. The teen took the hint and sucked both of them into his mouth, hand around the larger male's wrist, recreating his earlier ministrations on the singer's cock. The elder male briefly bit his lip before his jaw went slack, mind obviously remembering what the younger wanted him to. He wrapped his left arm around the smaller male's torso, gripping hard onto his side, pulling him closer, grinding harder as his hips pushed away from the wall.

"Wanna fuck you so bad," he breathed out harshly, pupils blown wide under half-lowered lids.

Kendall pulled the fingers from his mouth, responding with a "please do" before kissing the other male hard once more.

Their tongues battled, rubbing, massaging, as James slipped his hand into the back of the smaller male's boxers, rubbing his hole before sliding a spit-covered finger in. Kendall let out a small gasp of surprise at the invasion, one that was swallowed by the elder's mouth. He relaxed, feeling the finger sliding in and out of him. His hole was still slightly stretched from earlier, so it wasn't long before a second finger was added, its entry rough due to a proper lubrication.

He pulled away from the singer's lips, letting out another small gasp, eyes blown wide, jaw hanging loose. Somehow miraculously managing to unclench his fingers from around the singer's tee, he moved his hands to the other male's waist, under the v-neck, smoothing up over ridged abs and pausing over hard nipples. Which he promptly pinched. Because what the fuck was the point of fooling around with someone who had sensitive nipples if you couldn't exploit that weakness?

James' own dark eyes went wide as he groaned, hips bucking extra hard. Without a word, he pulled his fingers out, sliding his hand out the teen's boxers, before pushing him over to the couch. Shoving gently, he forced Kendall to lay along the length of it, promptly sitting on top of the smaller male, straddling his hips, hard cocks perfectly aligned. Reaching behind his head, he grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, drawing it up and off, and throwing it carelessly to the side before leaning down and attaching his lips to Kendall's.

The blond kissed back, tongues rubbing against one another, his hands reaching up to tangle in short brown locks. He could feel the other male's hands moving up and down his torso, feel the singer's hips expertly rolling over his, years of dance making the motion fluid, easy. The teen moved his own pelvis up and down, matching grind for grind, the sweat from the pop star's torso making his shirt wet. Really, there were just too many clothes and not enough nudity for his liking.

And far too many people, considering how one just knocked on the door.

James froze, body tense, actions stopping, lips stilling, hands freezing as they gripped Kendall's sides. He was shutting down again, closing off, ending things before they went too far.

Deja vu all over again.

Fucking hell.

The singer sat up, hands on his own thighs, the teen letting his own fingers untangle from brown locks before dropping by his sides. He listened to the male on top of him let out a "yeah?", Freight Train's muffled response telling then they were leaving in ten before his heavy footsteps walked away.

Kendall let out a groan, head slamming back against a pillow, eyes closed in frustration as his fists covered them. "You _are_ gonna fuck me at some point tonight, right?" he questioned, body slightly trembling, too wound up. "'Cause I swear if you don't, I will _actually_ fuckin' kill someone."

A small chuckle was heard, James breathing out a laugh. "Make sure you don't drop the soap when you're in jail."

The teen dropped his fists back down to his sides, glaring up at the elder male. Not. Fucking. Funny. "I might drop it on purpose," he said, solely for spite, 'cause he was mature like that. "At least then I'd get laid."

It was meant to be a sarcastic comment on the lack of actual physical sex they'd participated in so far, but instead was taken in the absolute wrong way. The singer glared down, eyes hard, jaw tense, fists clenched on his lap. He was jealous again, meaning the blond had hit some sorta possessive nerve. And the only reason he'd be so possessive would be because he cared about the smaller male and wanted to keep him to himself.

Unless he really _was_ being used for nothing but sex and the brunet didn't want anyone touching his property and wearing it out or damaging it.

Face still hard and with an angry look in his eyes, the elder male spoke firmly, letting the younger know he wasn't fucking around. "The _only_ person who'll be fucking-or getting fucked by-you is _me_."

The words sent a shiver down Kendall's spine, dick twitching and leaking, nearly coming right then and there. Sitting up, he got right in the other male's face, hands on bare hips, thumbs on the V that led to that piece of anatomy he was dying to have inside him. "Then fuck me already," he ordered, leaning forward to kiss the singer.

Only to have James tilt back before standing up.

The fuck?

The blond cocked an eyebrow as he turned his head to the right to watch the other male, seeing him walk to the opposite side of the room, hips sauntering, perfect ass framed in impossibly white jeans. His hand was in his hair, fixing it, body over by the catering table on the other end of the wall from the door. And when he finally turned around, his face was back to being that goddamn emotionless mask. The only evidence that anything had happened were his still red cheeks, kiss bruised lips, and the obvious bulge in his pants.

Kendall wondered if the singer was part robot or some shit, the way he was able to automatically shut off emotions so fast and easily.

Then he realized that he'd been stuck watching too many shitty sci-fi b-movies with Carlos and that the Latino clearly needed an ass kicking.

With a sigh, he shifted his left leg so his foot was flat on the couch, knee bent, elbow resting on it. He moved his hands on top of his head, wanting to shove his fingers in his hair, but instead getting the digits stuck under the beanie he forgot he was wearing. Once again, he'd come so close to being with the other male in the way he'd wanted to be for months, only to be stopped again.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

"I think you should leave."

Once again, the fuck?

Confusion was back on his face, this time joined by hurt, wondering where the hell that had come from. Rejection was an icy knife to the heart, accompanied by painful daggers of memories stabbing at his brain. He was unwanted, unloved, unneeded. No one actually cared about him. No one wanted his around. No one gave a shit that he existed.

Fingers tangled in his hair, he pulled on the strands, biting his bottom lips as he straight down at his lap, at the erection he was slowly losing. Heartbreak and dismissal were a definite boner killer.

"I gotta pack up," James continued, resting his ass on the edge of the table. "And it'd be easier to focus and make sure I don't forget anything if you aren't here distracting me."

Hand sliding out his beanie, Kendall turned his head to the other male, brow furrowed in confusion. "I distract you?"

The singer let out a snort, folding his arms over his chest and nodding. "Yeah. It's like you and my dick are teaming up to take me down."

"I don't see anything wrong with you going down."

"See!" the brunet practically yelled, standing up, gesturing to the blond with an open hand. "That shit's not helping!"

The teen turned in his seat, feet on the floor, focused on the elder male. "Fine, then _don't_ go down on me! Whatever."

He refolded his arms before speaking. "But I _want_ to go down on you."

The confusion was back for the five millionth time that day and fuck knew he was gonna end up in a Nut Hut at the end of all this. "Then what the fuck is the problem?!" He might've yelled that, but whatever, it was necessary.

"I wanna go down on you right now, but I don't have time!"

Well, that kinda changed shit.

Kendall sat there with his eyebrows raised, taken aback, not entirely sure what to say to that, other than "oh". And James didn't seem like he knew how to react either, simply nodding as he finger-combed his hair.

"Right, um," the blond started, having no clue what the fuck he was about to say, if he was even gonna say anything. Slapping his hands on his thighs, he stood up, hiking up his jeans and adjusting his tee. "Guess I'll go then," he stated as he pointed to the door before walking over to it.

He stopped a couple feet away, the singer having called his name. Turning his head, he saw the other male stepping over slowly, reaching out and taking hold of the teen's hand, almost seeming reluctant as he looked down at their entwined fingers. The brunet still didn't raise his eyes as he bumped and rubbed his nose against the blond's, kissing him quickly but sweetly before touching their foreheads.

It was pretty damn puzzling to be told to leave one minute, then treated sweetly the next. But the masochistic side of him was okay with the confusion and the rejection and the hurt if it meant he had moments where he was cherished and treated like he was something valuable and important to the singer.

"I'll see you in a few, okay?" James whispered, Kendall nodding against him. A kiss to the nose and a slap to the ass-both of which were becoming habit-and the younger male left the room, small smile on his face.

Until he ran into Logan a few yards down the hallway.

The assistant appeared a li'l mentally lost, looking behind the teen, then up at his face. "Where's James?"

"Packing," the blond answered, pointing behind himself with his thumb. "I'm a distraction."

The brunet snorted, the "no shit" going unsaid. "All right," he replied, raising his eyebrows for a brief second, as though it would wipe away whatever he'd been thinking. "Uh, I guess you can go wait in the limo if you want and I'll help James."

Kendall nodded, thinking time alone in the car would help him clear his head and straighten shit out while he had the chance, before sex came into play and complicated shit once again. He gave Logan a "cool" and a small wave before walking around him and heading to the bus lot.

Fans were lined up around the security rails like before, all of them cheering when the doors opened, only to get quiet when they saw who it was. Whatever. Kendall didn't care. He wasn't there for the fame or fandom approval or to make anyone else happy. He was there for James.

But the internet exists, and the blond wasn't completely anonymous, a couple fans calling his name. He briefly considered ignoring them, to just pretend he didn't hear them or that he wasn't Kendall, to keep on his way and just get in the car. Until he remembered that bitch from school and the minor shit storm she'd created after he'd snubbed her. And as much as he didn't give a shit about his own rep, he didn't wanna fuck James' up, especially when part of the fandom was already pissed at him for "lying".

Mind made up, he turned his head to the girls who'd called for his attention, giving a small smile and a wave as he walked on.

"Why aren't you in Minnesota?!" one yelled, leaning over the rail as he passed.

He gave a shrug, like it wasn't that big a deal, remembering the cover story Logan had given the crew. "Visiting a friend."

The girl who'd questioned him turned to a friend, the two of them discussing something between themselves, as the third member of their group kept looking at him, giving a long, slow nod, skepticism all over her face. Oh fucking well. He didn't care if she believed him or not. Both he and James had said the same thing to the fans, meaning people were more likely to think it was the truth, which was exactly what the two males wanted.

That thought in mind, Kendall gave another wave and a "see ya, ladies", only to be asked to wait.

'_Fuck me, what now?_' he mentally complained, hiding the annoyance from his face as he stopped walking. "Yeah?"

"Can we get a pic with you?" the original girl questioned, one whose blonde hair was clearly from a bottle, judging from the dark roots.

He raised an eyebrow, face full of "are you serious?" He wasn't anyone famous or special, just some dude from Bumfuck, Minnesota. Yet these chicks were acting like he was actually someone important, someone worth of special attention, someone to actually brag about having met with photographic evidence backing up your story.

This shit was gonna end up all over Tumblr, he just knew it.

Folding his arms over his chest, he focused on the trio-two blondes and a redhead-confusion and curiosity still the visible emotions on his features. "Why?"

"'Cause you're awesome," Leader Blonde stated, like it was a "duh" thing.

"You don't even know me."

"No, but James does," she pointed out and he bit his tongue before he told her that was bullshit, that they barely knew each other despite all the phone calls and having spent most of the day together. "And in case you haven't noticed," she continued. "He doesn't really seem to have a lotta friends, so clearly you must be someone way cool if he hangs out with you."

'_That, or he _really_ wants to get laid,_' his mind replied, always thinking positively and seeing the bright side of shit.

"So, can we get a picture?" Blondie Number Two asked, hands clasped together under her chin, pout on her face. Like it would actually make a difference.

Hand working the back of his neck, he thought about that bitch from his school again, figuring that just 'cause these girls _seemed_ nice and complimentary didn't meant they wouldn't pull the same shit. And since he was still worried about James' rep more than his own, he figured he could suffer a minute or two of being social and deal with these chicks. Plus he still had some time to kill while he waited for everyone else, so why the fuck not?

He dropped his hand and walked over, seeing Leader Blonde turn to some brunette not in her group and talk to her, camera in hand. Arrangements made and cam handed over, Kendall reached he trio and waited as they positioned themselves before leaning over the guard rail. He put on a small smile, watched the flash pop, then moved to leave, only to be asked if the girls could get individual shots with him. Which he gave them. For James' rep only.

When it was over, when he was seeing green and purple spots every time he blinked, he stepped away, giving yet another wave, hoping like hell he'd be able to _finally_ get in the limo.

But, of fucking course, no such luck.

"Is James a good kisser?"

His eyebrows shot up at the redhead's question, at the randomness, at the invasiveness, at the ballsiness. It had come outta pretty much nowhere, especially after he'd told them he was visiting a _friend_. So for this chick—who he didn't even know the name of—to imply they were more than that and ask something that wasn't any of her business—regardless of any form of relationship between the two males—was brave, risky, and kinda fucking rude.

He didn't bother hiding the shock from his face, 'cause really, it couldn't be helped. Beside, it helped the cover story. Wouldn't anyone be surprised and a li'l freaked out if some stranger randomly asked what kinda kisser your friend was? Your friend of the same gender. Your friend that the world believed was straight.

But the biggest reason of all was that focusing on the surprise was better than actually thinking about the answer. Because honestly? "Yes" wasn't an accurate enough response. Kissing James was like inhaling fire. It would cause his entire body to heat up, flames licking at his skin, racing through his veins. His blood was red hot lava beneath the surface, bubbling, waiting for the inevitable eruption. His mind would be singed, burnt to a crisp, incapable of any sort of thought. It was scary, terrifying, dangerous, even stupid, but he couldn't stop. Not that he _wanted_ to stop, which was probably the stupidest part of all.

But he clearly couldn't say any of that shit, didn't wanna do that either. The only option was to completely ignore the memories of the singer's lips on his and the reactions it caused in his body—even at that moment just remembering it—and let out a short humorless laugh, acting like he had no clue what this crazy chick was talking about.

"Dude," he started, voice full of disbelief at what she asked. "We're _friends_. And you know James isn't gay, right?" He raised an eyebrow as he asked that, wording it just right, the same way the pop star had during the Q&A, so that neither of them was a liar. Pretty fucking clever really.

The trio was silent for a long moment, seeming to be letting the info sink in. Until Leader Blond spoke for the group again.

"So, is that 'no' orrr-" She trailed off, matching looks of expectation on all three faces.

Another small laugh left Kendall as he continued his pseudo-charade, unable to believe they'd even ask that. "That's a 'I have no idea'." It was a lie, but if there was anything he'd learned over the past couple years it was the fact that when it comes to emotions and matters of the heart, you should never be honest. It only makes you vulnerable, open, exposed, making it easier for others to fuck you over and hurt you even more.

Just sucked that it took so many blows to his emotional gut before he figured that out and learned to protect himself better.

Determined to finally fully be done with these chicks and their fucking nosiness, Kendall backed away, waving and telling them he had to go. He turned around so they'd take the hint that the convo was _definitely_ over, his eyes focused solely on the limo, no one else calling for his attention as he headed towards it.

He climbed into the back of the empty vehicle, shutting the door behind himself, sliding along to the seat he'd used all day. Only to decide that was a fucking mistake. That redhead's inquiry over James' make out talents played in his mind once more, along with the memory of kissing him on the way to the radio station while in that exact seat. And, of course, the mental images of other times he'd played tonsil hockey with the singer followed, bringing with them an all too perfect recall of every detail: the way James' lips moved, the pressure of his tongue, the taste of his mouth, the feel and position of his hands. The brunet didn't kiss with just his mouth; it was a full body experience, hands roaming, hips rolling, cocks rubbing.

Kendall let out a groan as his head lolled back against the seat, biting his lower lip, mind replaying their latest make out session on the couch in the dressing room. He'd been so close to coming—again—his unreleased orgasm a heavy ache in his balls and he was dying to have the elder male just take him right then and there.

His arousal came back to life, his erection pissed to have been softened and forgotten about, an angry hurt inside jeans that now felt too tight. He had a feeling he was gonna end up literally pouncing on the singer as soon as he got in the limo and the teen wouldn't give a shit who was around or who saw, only caring about getting them both naked and the other male inside him. Or at least a hand in his pants so he could finally come.

The small part of his brain that knew that was a bad idea was still miraculously working. Deciding distance was the only answer, he moved to the other seat, the one stretched along the side of the limo, sliding down until he was closer to the driver's cab than the door.

Which gave him the ability to actually _see_ the seat he was in while kissing James. Well, if he turned his head and looked at it.

Which he did.

Although it was more like "staring" than "looking", but whatever, no need to be technical.

There was _definitely_ a need for a distraction though, Kendall figuring that focusing on previous make out sessions with James weren't helping him _not_ want to jump the other male as soon as he set eyes on him. He slid his iPhone out of his pocket, a li'l surprised his mom hadn't tried to contact him yet. Then again, it was a Friday, so chances were she probably thought he'd been at school, then work, and was now at a party somewhere. Basically a typical end-of-the-week type routine for him, which worked as a great alibi. The rest of the weekend however...

Fuck it. He'd deal with that later. Unlocking his phone, he opened his texts, sending one to Camille and letting her know it was okay if she wanted to hang the next day. A couple messages back and forth and they'd arranged to meet at some coffee shop, she supplying the name and number of a cab company should he need one. Probably a handy thing to have, since he more than likely wouldn't be able to use the rental car and he sure as fuck couldn't—or wouldn't even wanna—use the limo.

He sent her a "thanks" as the limo door opened, Logan entering, only to stop when he saw Kendall. The brunet's brows raised as his eyes widened, seeming surprised at the blond's choice in seat, only to get over it pretty quickly. With a shrug, he moved to the leather bench Kendall was on, plopping himself down with a sigh, before turning to the teen.

"Any particular reason why you're sitting there?"

"Yup," the younger male popped his 'P' as he slid his iPhone back in his pocket.

"You gonna tell me why?"

He shrugged. "Depends on whether or not you ask."

Logan's face with the same expression of non-amusement Kendall's mom wore when he pulled the same shit at home, which seemed fitting considering James' nickname for his best friend. The assistant untwisted his lips, but kept the serious, narrowed glare. "Why are you sitting there?"

The blond turned to the brunet, shrugging and shaking his head, pretending like nothing was up and it wasn't a big deal. "You told me to cool it with James so-" He left the sentence unfinished, thinking the other male could figure out the rest himself.

Which he clearly did, considering how his face shifted to a mix of "makes sense" and "wow, I'm impressed by your logic" as he nodded. The younger male tried not to be offended by the elder underestimating his ability to actually think shit through. Again.

A shuffling sounded out, Kendall turning his attention to it, watching James get in the limo, watching the confusion form on his face as their eyes met. Fucking hell, switching seats was _not_ that big a deal and everyone seriously needed to stop acting like he'd grown a dick on his head or turned purple and sprouted wings out his ass or some shit.

The singer didn't comment, didn't question, just turned to his assistant and said a simple "switch."

The shorter brunet turned to the taller, clearly ready to argue, knowing the blond had done the right thing, the _safe_ thing by sitting in a different spot and putting distance between himself and the pop star. "James, I don't think tha-"

"_Logan_!" the elder male practically yelled inside the vehicle, face hard as he stared pointedly at his best friend, jaw clenched. "No" apparently wasn't an option at that moment in time.

The aforementioned male sighed, defeated, moving over to the other seat without a fight. Kendall started wondering if James had meant what he said about no one really doing what he asked.

But he didn't have time to fully think that over. The singer had slid over right next to him—which was pretty fucking unnecessary, considering how much room was on that bench—Freight Train getting in the limo and seating himself next to Logan. A second or two later, the engine started up and the vehicle was in motion.

Leaving the bus lot.

To head to the hotel.

Where James and Kendall would finally get some much needed and anticipated alone time.

Meaning fucking. Lots and lots of fucking.

Finally.

And now that that realization was in his head, it was all he could think about, all he could focus on. And having the singer so close was only making shit worse. He could feel the other male's body heat seeping through his clothes, smell the musky scent emanating from him—which how anyone can smell that fucking good after sweating for an hour and a half was beyond him—both those things adding to his arousal.

The hand on his thigh wasn't helping either.

James was acting like nothing unusual was happening, head turned towards Logan, conversating. Kendall tried to concentrate on their discussion, only catching small pieces about gym and working out, mind unable to focus on anything but the hand slowly moving up his leg.

It didn't weigh much, but it felt heavy, the palm hot, burning. His lungs were barely working, aching as he forced himself to breathe normally, to not pant, to not act like anything was going on. His heart was pounding, racing in anticipation of what the other male was gonna do, _if_ he was even gonna do it. The singer was bluffing, had to be. No way would he actually fool around—or even try to—with other people in the back of the limo with him.

Then again, it wouldn't be the first time the blond was wrong about something.

The hand cupping his crotch also wouldn't be the last thing he'd be mistaken about either, he was sure.

Kendall's eyes went wide and he clenched his teeth to hold back a moan at the contact. His dick twitched inside its cotton confines, thankful as fuck it was finally getting some attention, demanding more. He fought the urge to slide down in the seat, to slump more and get a greater amount of friction, instead forcing himself to focus on making it all stop. Wrapping a hand around the other male's wrist, he dug his fingers in hard, pissed there was a bandana there, hopeful the singer would still feel it and take the hint.

James turned his head forward, smirking, glancing out the younger male out the corner of his eye, wordlessly saying he understood. The way he squeezed the teen's cock said he didn't give a shit and was gonna do what he wanted anyway.

The blond buried his face in the brunet's shoulder, using it to muffle a whimper, trembling slightly despite his best efforts not to. "You're a dick," he whispered, a grit to his words, a harsh inhale burning his throat.

The singer just chuckled, pressing down on the other male's cock, slightly turning his head before speaking. "You love my dick," he commented lowly, smugly, stating it like a fact he knew as well as the sky's color or that water is wet. "You wanna suck on it again, have it tapping the back of your throat. You want it rubbing against yours, both of us naked and sweating, pre-come dripping off our cocks. You want mine inside you, filling you up, stretching you beyond what you thought you were capable of, pounding into you before I make you come, moaning my name the whole time."

Oh. Shit.

The blond trembled more, panting, body turning towards the other male's. He stopped fighting it, stopped trying to make the brunet quit, stopped trying to remember why this was a bad idea. Instead, he decided to just go along with it, to enjoy the sensations, to give in completely. Not that he had much of a choice really. The pop star's scent was making his head spin, rendering him incapable of thought. His words reminded the teen of just a few days prior where similar phrases were being spoken down a phone line, his hand wrapped around his cock and his fingers in his ass. Only now there was no static altering the brunet's voice. It was pure James, better than phone sex.

But the result was definitely gonna be the same, especially if the elder kept squeezing and rubbing his dick that way.

The singer smirked, lips pressed to the teen's forehead as he spoke in a low volume. "C'mon, Kendall," he urged, hand still working the other male through his jeans. "Lemme hear you moan out my name."

The blond inhaled a gasp at one particularly hard squeeze, choking out an exhale. "Fuck you," he replied, moving his hand so he was grasping the larger male's forearm, fingers digging in.

"Maybe next time. Tonight I'm fuckin' _you_."

Kendall let out a groan that was bordering on hysterical, trying like hell to keep quiet, trying to remind himself that he and James still weren't fully alone. But his body didn't seem to care, hips slightly moving, trying to get more contact, more friction. His eyes were closed, jaw dropped, lips parted as he panted, face buried in the larger male's shoulder. His cock was throbbing, balls tight, orgasm so close once more.

Only to be interrupted by Logan's loud, obnoxious throat clearing.

Kendall was _really_ starting to dislike that motherfucker.

James froze, motions stopping, body tensing, just like before when their kiss was broken up. The blond let out a small whimper, about to move the brunet's arm for him, only for his brain to start somewhat working and realization to set in.

The singer turned his head to his friend, but kept his hand where it was, his large frame blocking anyone from seeing exactly what was going on. Words were exchanged, syllables the teen couldn't quite figure out. His mind was still fuzzy, still not fully operating, and it took him a long moment to realize that limo had stopped and that Freight Train was no longer in it.

Meaning they were at the hotel.

Meaning he was one step closer to getting laid.

His dick throbbed and James squeezed it, Kendall gasping then biting his lip to stop himself from letting out the moan threatening to break loose. The elder male was clearly a douchebag.

The taller male removed his hand as Logan turned away to exit, then slid down the bench to the one along the back. The younger watched him get out the car, taking a steadying breath—or three—before following.

He stepped out onto the sidewalk, the limo having pulled up outside the entrance of the hotel. His heart was pounding, stomach clenching and flipping, palms sweating—although he wasn't sure if that was nerves or where he'd been gripping onto James' arm—and he felt pretty much exactly the same way as he did when waiting in line for the meet 'n' greet a couple weeks back.

Fuck, had it only been a couple weeks? It felt like a fucking lifetime had passed. Hell, it didn't even seem like his first James Diamond concert was only about three months ago.

But it was. Funny how shit worked. Thirteen or so weeks ago, he was calling the singer a fairy with shallow lyrics and shit music, completely dreading the show and hating how he'd been guilted into going by Carlo's well-practiced puppy dog face. Then with one look from the pop star, everything changed. And now he was standing outside a hotel waiting to have sex with the guy, this huge moment that was gonna change their lives.

Because that's what fucking did: change shit. He already had problems seeing photos of the guy without thinking of how much better he looked up close and in person, couldn't hear his pre-recorded voice without thinking of how amazing it sounded saying the teen's name. Now Kendall was gonna see those pics and hear those words, knowing he'd seen the singer naked, had heard the sexual noises he made, had felt what it was like to actually be fucked by him and not some fantasy imagine post on Tumblr.

His life back home when this trip was over was never gonna be the same. And neither would he.

"Ready?"

Kendall lifted his head at James' voice, seeing those hazel eyes on him, expectation on his face as he tilted his head to the front entrance of the hotel. It was one word, referencing whether or not the teen was prepared to go inside the building, if he had gotten everything he needed. But to the blond, it was much more than that. He felt as though he'd been asked if he was ready to change his whole life, to make it so nothing would ever be like it was before. It wasn't his first time having sex—although he kinda wished it was, considering what went down with the fuckhead he'd given his v-card to—but it might as well have been, given how he felt as though everything in his world was about to be altered drastically, irrevocably.

Taking a deep breath, he put a smile on his face, nodding. "Yeah. I'm ready."


	28. Fina-Fucking-Ly!

_**A/N: **__See here's the thing (prepare yourself for a ramble): smut takes time. Especially if you're me. And despite the fact that a lot of this chapter has been in my head-and on various pieces of paper scattered throughout notebooks, bags, and my room, which thank fuck no one else goes in cause hey, hi, hello, awkward!-it still needed time to be written. Because the last thing I wanted to do was have this chapter just completely suck. This has been building up for twenty-seven-twenty-eight if you count "Sing Me Anything"-chapters and I wasn't about to rush anything. It wouldn't be fair to you guys, wouldn't be fair to the story, and wouldn't be fair to James and Kendall. And I know that you guys have been (impatiently) waiting for this but sometimes you don't write the story; sometimes it writes itself and all you do is type it up. I mean, how many times did I mention these jerks taking over and totally redoing chapters or plot points? A lot. Totally not my fault cause honestly? They were probably supposed to fuck about five chapters ago but they kept doing other shit and...well you know the rest._

_Anyway, that's my explanation for the long wait for this chapter. Last thing I wanted was to quickly churn it out and update just 'cause someone yelled "UPDATE NOW" in a review. Otherwise it would've been total shit like "James fingered him, got him ready. They fucked. Bing bang bong, orgasms". No one wants to read that. And honestly, if I'd done that, if I'd given into demand and just updated because someone said so, I probably would've ended up hating the chapter, which would, in turn, make me hate this fic and not wanna work on it._

_I'd apologize for the wait but I'm not sorry and I was taught never to lie. Besides I also had spring cleaning to do._

_Shout out to Linda for linking me to that video that I damn near lost my mind during (and you'll get why when you read this. Reminder I had this fully written up before watching it.). Oh and everyone should thank her, cause it was her bribe of more fanart that had me posting this so soon. Otherwise I would've kept putting it off. That's what happens when you demand an update. I don't respond to those, okay? I do, however, respond to bribery. Another big shout out to Maria for her gorgeous fanart that I looooove! Thank you, hun!_

_Oh and shout out to the Deftones and their songs "Digital Bath" and "Passenger" for the mood music while I wrote this. UNF!_

_Don't think I need to cover my ass about anything. Oh! Thanks to putwhatinyourbutt over on Tumblr for confirming nothing works as lube except for lube. Seriously you guys should check that blog out. Good for a laugh/freak out in a bad way._

_Enjoy the update! Deuces!_

* * *

Kendall was ninety-nine percent sure the elevator ride was what Hell was. Only there'd be more OneDirection. Oh, and Bieber. And Cody Simpson covering "Call Me Maybe", because they weren't annoying enough on their own.

But despite the lack of shit-tacular soundtrack-or any sounds at all really-he wasn't entirely sure the elevator _wasn't_ heading down. He hadn't exactly been virtuous or good, not over the past couple years anyway. Underage drinking, sex, drugs, swearing like a sailor, treating people like shit, acting like an asshole. Some would say his homosexuality was enough to earn a ticket to an afterlife down south, others would say the fact that he was created outta wedlock and was a bastard would do that. No matter the case though, he felt like he was already hanging out at Lucifer's place. After all, how else would one explain his current situation?

He stood in the corner of the elevator cart, hands over his crotch, trying to hide his boner but feeling like he was making it more obvious. Logan was on his right, eyes on his iPhone, a human barrier between Kendall and James. Probably a wise idea, in order to stop the two males from going at it and having it all caught on the camera the blond had spotted in the opposite corner. Although Freight Train would probably be safer and more effective, but he was in front of them in case some psycho was waiting on their floor, ready to attack when the elevator opened.

Then again, there was someone ready to attack the pop star already in the elevator. Just a different kind of attacking.

Which was why Kendall believed he was in Hell. He was in a small confined space, body tense, dick aching, a few strokes away from coming, and the guy he wanted to get him off was just a couple feet away. Only he couldn't do anything about it, couldn't grab hold of the guy, couldn't rut against him until they were both moaning, panting animals with stained boxers. Because they _still_ weren't alone. He was stuck in that small space with other people, no sounds but the whir of the elevator and the ding as they passed each floor, Awkwardness a fifth passenger in the cart.

Hell.

Minus the pop shit music.

And it didn't get any better when they finally _did_ arrive on the right floor. Freight Train got off first, followed by James, then Logan, Kendall trailing behind and admittedly walking a little funny. But considering how every step caused his cock to rub up against his boxers and jeans, the friction that annoying mix of pain/pleasure that was bringing him closer, despite the fact that he was trying to hold himself back.

They entered James' suite in the same order they exited the elevator, the bodyguard inspecting the rooms while the other three waited just inside the door. The blond leaned up against the wall, hands still covering himself, head tilted down as he bit his bottom lip. Time was moving _way_ too slowly and Freight Train was taking _way_ too long. And, okay, Kendall understood the need to be thorough, was glad for it, liked that James would be safe and the teen wouldn't need to worry. But still. He wanted everyone out the suite and the singer in him.

Two decades—technically minutes but whatever—later, Freight Train gave the all clear, leaving the suite, Logan following soon after. The door clicked shut, automatically locking itself, Kendall's heart and lungs stopping at the sound.

He'd barely raised his head before James was on him, hands cupping his face, hard body pressing him further against the wall, lips crashing against his own. He let out a gasp of shock, the singer taking advantage and practically shoving his tongue into the teen's mouth, exploring every nook and cranny inside.

Kendall's hands shot up, fingers tangling in the elder's hair. He had no clue if he was trying to keep the other male there, to keep the connection, or trying to pull away, to make it all stop. His entire body was overheated, on fire, feeling once again like that volcano that was set to blow at any moment.

And considering how tight his balls felt and how hard his dick was, an eruption was _definitely_ about to happen.

James moved his hands to the blond's hips, grinding into him, the younger male pulling his lips away, slamming his head back against the wall with an unnoticed thud. A shaky gasp left the teen as he felt teeth sink into his neck, over the hickey that had been made earlier, eyes drifting closed.

"Gonna come," he groaned, breathing out a barely there swear. "Gonna fuckin' come."

Which was precisely when the brunet stopped.

Green eyes shot open as the other male stepped back, mind considering killing the taller guy if he didn't get laid soon.

But instead of leaving like the smaller male expected him to, the singer dropped to his knees, pushing up the teen's t-shirt and kissing his lower abdomen.

More desperate moans left Kendall, hips bucking forward, desperate for contact, for friction, for something. "James." His voice was a mix of need and frustration, no longer giving a shit about pride or holding back. "Don't tease."

"It's only teasing if you don't follow through," the pop star replied with a smirk, licking along the top of the blond's jeans before unbuttoning them.

The teen stared down at the elder male, watching with half-lidded eyes as his zipper was slowly pulled down. His chest was heaving, breathing reduced to shallow pants as his abs trembled with each in- and exhale.

Grabbing hold of the denim pants, the brunet shoved them down some, leaving them around the smaller male's thighs, almost trapping him in a way. Not wasting any more time, he undid the button on the slit of the boxers before reaching in and taking hold of the blond's cock, pulling it out.

Kendall's knees nearly gave out at the sensation of it as one hand wrapped around the base, the other stroking up and down slowly. He let out a shuddered moan at the feel of the elder male's hands, the skin rough but soft, grip firm but gentle. His lips were parted, jaw slack, too heavy to hold up as he continued to pant.

Then James brought his tongue into play.

It was a quick little lick, barely there, a fast flick over the slit that made the blond gasp. Both hands gripped him, tongue swirling around the head, teasing that sensitive spot just below. He licked all over the shaft, coating it, traced the slit once more and let out a satisfied "mmm" at the taste of the precome that had leaked out.

The teen bit his bottom lip, muffled whines leaving him, needing more. The tongue action was great and his dick was happy it was _finally_ getting some attention, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

The elder male seemed to know this, finally wrapping his lips around the tip, taking the head into his mouth and sucking lightly. The younger let out an "ahh" that was part shock, part pleasure, fingers tangling in brown locks as he moved his hips forward, trying to put more of his dick in the other male's mouth.

But James wasn't having any of that, determined to remain in charge, even from his position on his knees. He moved his hands to the smaller male's hips, pushing them back against the wall and holding him there. Hazel eyes flicked up, meeting green ones with a heated glare that spoke volumes more than his mouth could, even if it wasn't currently occupied. Kendall's tongue darted out, licking dry lips, unable to tear his gaze away, no matter how intense the other male's stare was. If anything, it was helping him realize this was real.

And, okay, a lotta things should've made him realize it was actually happening. There was the bruising pressure of fingers on his hips, the wet suction of a mouth around his dick, but he'd fantasized about this moment so many times over the past couple months that he'd gotten pretty good at imagining little details like those.

But there were so many things he hadn't imagined. The prick of fingernails in his skin, the vibrations of the noises the singer made as he took more of the teen's dick in his mouth, the teasing way he flicked his tongue on the underside. It was miles better than some celeb fantasy, partially because it was real, it was actually happening, but partially because it didn't even feel like he was being blown by a celeb. In that moment, it was just him and a twenty-two year old dude named James.

A dude whose right hand was palming his ass, fingers sliding between his cheeks.

"Oh, fuck, James," Kendall breathed out, hole twitching as the pad of one of the brunet's fingers pressed and rubbed against it. He relaxed against the feel of it, the rest of his body tense and hard, ready to blow at any second.

The brunet smirked, finger roughly pressing its way inside the blond, making him cry out. But his mind was soon taken off the stinging sensation as he felt wet heat cover more of his dick, watched as the elder male took more of him in his mouth, until he felt the tip hitting the back of his mouth.

"Shit!" His head fell back, face tilted up towards the ceiling, eyes slamming shut at the sensation. A strangled groan left his parted lips when he felt the other male swallow around him, the noise getting cut off by a choked laugh when the singer hummed. The teen had no idea what song it was-not that he even gave a shit at that moment-he just knew it sent vibrations throughout his entire body. And it fucking felt _amazing_.

Kendall lifted his head, looking down at the taller male, watching as he started bobbing his head up and down, the finger in the smaller male's ass moving in the same rhythm. The blond was torn between the two sensations, not sure if he wanted to move his hips forward or back, caught in the middle of toomuchtoomuchnotenoughsoclo se.

James moved his finger around stretching the younger guy's hole, rubbing his walls, pressing against his prostate. The teen kept panting, kept moaning, kept rutting his hips.

"Gonna come," he breathed out. "So-_fuck_!"

The brunet pulled the blond's cock out his mouth, hazel eyes locked onto green once more. He licked the flat of his tongue over the slit, nodding, wordlessly letting the smaller male know it was okay. Keeping the eye contact, he parted his lips and slowly started sliding the teen's dick back in his mouth, sucking hard on the head.

It took a few more sucks and a couple flicks of the tongue to the sensitive spot under the mushroom tip, then Kendall was finally coming, spilling into the elder male's mouth. His head slammed back as a cacophony of swears and James' name fell rapidly from his lips. His fingers cranked down, pulling at brunet hair without even realizing it, mind blown. All he could think about was how fucking good it felt to finally get that release, how amazing a blow job it'd been, and how it was made all the more better by who had given it to him.

His orgasm continued to roll through him as the singer continued to suck on the head, left hand stroking the shaft, prolonging it. The teen slumped back against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed as a smile formed on his face. His legs miraculously held him upright as the other male helped him calm down, helped his breathing even out and his heart rate slow.

When he felt like a normal functioning human again-or at least as normal as he _could_ be around the singer-he tilted his head back down, watching as James rose to his feet, their lips crashing together in yet another heated kiss. Kendall sucked on the singer's tongue, pulled at his bottom lip, fingers tangling in brown locks. His over-sensitized dick was still held by the taller male, twitching in his grasp, the orgasm he'd just had not nearly enough to fully sate him.

He broke the kiss, green eyes locking onto darkened hazel ones, hips rolling and chest heaving. His breath left him in pants, mingling with the other male's as they exchanged air. "Get me naked," he pleaded, swallowing. "Please."

"Not a problem," the brunet replied, moving his hands to cup the blond's face before kissing him again.

The teen felt his beanie being pushed off his head, the grey wool dropping onto the floor, both males too lost in the make-out session to really give a shit. Kendall could taste his come on the other male's tongue, along with the underlying flavor of James, a mix that the blond fucking loved. A strange possessive wave hit him at it, an overwhelming feeling of how well those flavors blended and how much they belonged together.

He wrapped his arms around the larger male's shoulders, pushing all his body weight into the broader frame, causing the singer to take a couple steps back.

James broke the kiss, lips reddened, face flushed, breathing harsh. "Bedroom."

Kendall nodded emphatically, watching as the elder male slipped out of his arms, taking the opportunity to put his dick back in his boxers and pull his pants up, not bothering to button them, 'cause really, there was no point. They were just gonna be undone again in a moment.

The brunet took hold of the blond's hand as he walked to the bedroom of the suite, pulling the younger male inside and closing the door behind them. They kissed hard once more, both kicking off their shoes, before the larger male pulled away, removing his t-shirt, the teen finally noticing that he'd changed after their previous romp back in the dressing room. He didn't get a chance to dwell on it though, thoughts switched to how his own black tee was being pushed up his torso and over his head.

Both shirts dropped to the floor, the two males reconnected their lips, the younger cupping the back of the other's neck, fingers in brown hair at the side of his head, as the elder wrapped his arms around the smaller's waist, pulling him closer. Their hips automatically started rutting together, the brunet's hard cock rubbing the blond's limp one through layers of cotton and denim, making it twitch and gaining its attention once more.

Kendall gained the upper hand, controlling the kiss, pushing the other male back until his legs hit the bed. Their lips parted again, James laying down on the piece of furniture and moving so his head was on the pillows. The blond straddled the brunet's hips, grinding down, the friction making them both moan and his dick start swelling. He attached his lips to the elder male's collarbone, nipping, kissing, sucking along it as his hands moved up and down the other guy's sides. Fingers were splayed along his back, holding him close, hips bucking up against his. The teen licked the hollow of the singer's throat, bit his adam's apple, before kissing his way down his clavicle. The larger male's chest was heaving, breathing hard, bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he looked down at the younger male.

"Now who's the tease?" James questioned, his voice a sexy rumble that went straight to Kendall's cock.

The blond smirked against tan skin, lips pressed between flat pecs. "I've waited three months for this," he pointed out, pressing open mouth kisses as he made his way over to one side of the brunet's chest. "I'm gonna enjoy every second and make it last."

"If you waited so long, why are you delayi-oh fuck!" The singer's question was cut off as the teen bit down on a nipple, causing his back to arch and his head to get thrown back. His breathing was ragged, shaky, fingers tangling in dirty blond hair, whines leaving his parted lips. "God, you're a dick."

The younger male laughed, smirk growing. "Revenge is sweet," he commented before sucking on the other nipple. Groans hit his ears, causing more blood to rush to his cock. The tug on his hair made him gasp, lips pulled from the hardened nub, pelvis grinding down harder. He lifted his head, half-lidded eyes meeting the other male's, seeing the pop star lick his own lips. The metal-head rubbed his thumbs over the singer's nipples as he sat up, rolling his hips.

"Why aren't you naked?" James demanded to know, sitting up, too, arms wrapping around the other male's waist and crashing their torsos together, kissing him roughly.

Kendall smirked, hands on broad shoulders. "Your fault," he managed to get out, the other male moving his lips to his neck.

"Gotta change that." The brunet bit down on the blond's pulse point then flipped them over. He wasted no time tugging the teen's jeans down and off, tossing them to the side. Straddling the younger male's legs, he mouthed the half-hard dick through black cotton boxers, hand stroking the length.

The teen moaned, whined, bit his bottom lip as he watched the elder male's ministrations, the memory of that mouth actually around his cock still fresh in his mind. He gripped the other guy's shoulders, fingers digging in. He was sure if he had nails and didn't chew 'em all off, they'd be drawing blood.

His hips bucked up and down, grinding, trying to get more contact, more friction. Small moans left him as he breathed shallow and rapid. "_Please_ tell me you have lube and condoms."

James froze, head snapping up, face full of "oh shit."

Kendall sat up, panic hitting him. Seriously?! They were _thisclose_ to _finally_ having sex and they didn't have the necessary materials?! He really _was_ being punished, really _was_ in Hell.

The singer sat back on his heels, smoothing a hand over the top of his head, eyes flipped down, unseeing. His brow was drawn, face the same expression Carlos had when trying to figure out algebra. The blond hoped the brunet wasn't trying to think up an acceptable alternative to lube, since he was ninety-nine percent sure none existed. And there was no fucking way he could be talked into sex without a condom. He might've done a lotta dumb, reckless shit in his life but unprotected sex wasn't one of 'em. He wasn't about to change that for anyone.

He watched as the elder male got off the bed, walking straight over to the suitcase sitting on the stand in the corner. He flipped open the lid, letting out a "thank fuck", shoulders slumping in relief.

The teen remained on the bed, eyebrow cocked, wondering what exactly was going on. Until he randomly got distracted by his socks, mainly how they were still on and how the singer's feet were bare. He slipped a sock off, balling it up before tossing it at the other male's head, chuckling as the brunet turned and looked at him.

"You just throw something at me?"

"Yup." Kendall smiled proudly, pleased with himself and his aim, working on removing the other sock.

The confusion stayed on James' face, eyebrow raised as he looked at what the other male was doing. "You taking your socks off?"

"Yeah," he replied in a "duh" manner, slipping the clothing item all the way off. "Not having sex with socks on. Just awkward and weird."

The brunet tilted his head from side to side, considering the statement, then started walking back towards the bed. "I heard sex with socks on was kinda hot. Something 'bout keeping your body temp up or some shit."

Tilting his head down, the blond stared at the black cotton in his hand, debating putting it back on. But then he'd have to go get the other one...

The singer put the items he'd grabbed on the nightstand before taking the sock and tossing it behind him. Putting a hand on the teen's chest, he pushed the younger male back into a lying position. "Maybe some other time," he stated with a smirk as he laid down on top, attaching his lips to the right side of the blond's neck.

Kendall let out a moan at the sucking sensation, hips bucking up, hands moving down the other male's sides and around to the front of his jeans. He unzipped and unbuttoned them, sliding his hands inside the waistband and pushing them down as far as he could before moving his hands to the elder male's broad shoulders. With a shove, he had them flipped, James on his back on the bed, allowing the blond to fully remove his jeans.

Both males now clad in just their boxers, the younger crawled on top of the elder, aligning their groins and grinding them together. He rubbed his nose against the brunet's, their lips briefly meeting, tongues flicking against one another.

"You still aren't naked," the singer pointed out.

The teen smirked as he put his forehead on the other male's. "Neither are you."

"You should fix that."

Kendall rose to his knees, hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of the other male's boxers, stretching it and pulling the clothing item down and off. Leaving James laying naked on the bed.

Holy. Shit.

Unable to move, the blond remained on his knees, straddling muscular thighs as he took in the male before him. He truly was more beautiful in person than in pictures. The flat planes of his chest were rising and falling at a rapid pace, ridged abdomen expanding and contracting. His skin was a perfect tan all over, minus a triangular area around his crotch, like he sunbathed in a speedo. His cock was long, thick, laying on his lower abdomen, an angry red tint as it eagerly awaited release.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. And for the time being, he was all Kendall's.

A sharp pain at his hip caught the blond's attention, soon realizing the brunet had snapped the band of his boxers against his skin. He glared at the other male. "Asshole."

"Yeah, well, I'm tryna get in yours, so lose the boxers."

"Bossy fucker," he muttered, pushing the cotton shorts down, careful around his erection.

A hand came down on his bare ass, eliciting a gasp, the brunet smirking cockily. "You like that I'm bossy."

The teen continued taking off his undies, shifting from knee to knee, rolling his eyes. "I like when you shut up," he replied, tossing the boxers at the other male's face.

James' grin was still there when he removed the black fabric, dropping them onto the floor and grabbing a plastic cylindrical container off the nightstand. "Liar."

"Cocky son of a bitch."

"You know it," the singer agreed, wiggling his eyebrows.

The blond laughed, cupping the elder male's face and kissing him, feeling a hand grab his ass and pull, spreading his cheeks apart. He deepened the kiss, tongue exploring the inside of the other male's mouth, feeling the hand move away. The sounds of a cap being snapped open hit his ears, cheeks spread again before something cold drizzled over his hole.

He automatically tried to move away, his cock rubbing against the singer's, a shudder racing through his body at the sensation. A wet finger easily slid inside his hole, moving in and out, as he continued rutting his hips. He felt the brunet thrusting in time with him, heard the muffled moans that were coming from both of them. It was like all five senses were suddenly brought to life, overwhelming him, making him tremble above the larger male.

A second finger slid inside him, causing him to break the kiss so he could moan. His hands gripped hard onto broad shoulders, legs tense around large thighs, still grinding. James' dick was rubbing perfectly against him, hitting sensitized skin and stimulated nerves, making both of them pant.

Kendall swallowed hard, forehead resting against the brunet's, a thin sheen of sweat on both their skin and making them slippery. "You were right," he admitted, pausing to lick dry lips, mind back on the convo in the limo when the singer was stroking him through his jeans. "I _did_ want this."

A small laugh gusted against the blond's lips, followed by a throaty groan as the heads of both their cocks rubbed. "Fuck, so did I," he breathed out, eyes drifting closed, scissoring his fingers.

A whiny groan left the teen, teeth sinking into his bottom lip briefly. "Want you in me more."

"Fuck, so do I."

The younger male breathed out a tiny chuckle at the repetition, one that was soon cut off by a sharp inhale and a small gasped exhale of pain as he felt a third finger enter him. He moved his forehead to James' shoulder, right hand shifting to the larger male's hip and gripping hard. His entire body was tense, tight, shuddering at being stretched so far after going so long without it. His breath left him in shaky pants, inhales harsh and ragged, eyes closed and bottom lip pressed between his teeth.

The brunet kissed his shoulder, free hand stroking up and down his back, soothing him as he kept his fingers still, buried inside the smaller male. "It's okay," he murmured. "I got you."

Kendall swallowed the lump in his throat, the words hitting him deeper than just some superficial reassurance meant to make him relax. No guy had ever said that to him, no matter the connotation, and he wasn't entirely sure if he could handle it coming from the guy he was currently falling for.

So instead he just nodded, exhaling a "move", whimpering as the elder male did just that.

It took a couple strokes of the fingers inside him, but soon the blond's hips were moving again, thrusting back against the digits and forward against the brunet's dick. The singer started scissoring his fingers again, causing the teen's eyes to pop open, a muffled whine leaving clenched lips.

"Fuck," he groaned, fingers digging into the elder male. "Condoms?"

"Nightstand." The reply was breathy, desperate, needy, and the younger male savored the sound.

Fingers still moving in and out of him, Kendall sat up and leaned over to the mentioned piece of furniture, a moan escaping him at the new angle the digits were hitting him at. He somehow managed to get the box open, pulling out a roll of condoms and tearing a packet off then tossing the rest on top of the nightstand. Straightening up, he ripped open the foil square with his teeth before pulling out the rubber contained within.

"You gonna put it on me?" James asked with a smirk, dark eyes showing he had no problem with that plan at all.

Kendall let out a small laugh as he scooted back a couple inches, gaining access to the other male's dick, but also keeping those fingers inside himself. "Like I'm really gonna miss an opportunity to touch you."

The brunet let out an "mmm" as he licked his lips, hips bucking as the blond position the condom. "Don't let me stop you."

"Wasn't gonna." The teen rolled the latex down, covering the elder male's hard length before reaching back over to the nightstand to grab the lube. He drizzled some down onto the condom covered cock then closed the tube and put it back. Stroking the other male, he spread the lube around, making sure he was coated, making sure he was ready.

James groaned deeply, head tilted back, face flushed, an image that would be forever burned in Kendall's mind, one he'd no doubt bring back up during showers or lonely nights spent away from the singer.

Which was gonna happen too soon and too often.

The elder male moved his head back to where it had been, his dark eyes blazing, fierce determination etched on his features. "Fuck this," he commented, pulling his fingers out and gripping the smaller male's hips, flipping them over. He moved the blond's legs, pushing them back against his slim chest, the younger male taking the hint and holding them in place as the elder positioned himself. The brunet sat back, legs folded on either side of the blond, rubbing the the tip of his cock around the lubed up hole it wanted to be in.

"_Please_." Kendall was begging, desperate, pride having left with his clothes as he felt his entrance twitch against the warm head of the other male's dick. "No more teasing. Just _please_." His green eyes met the singer's dark ones and he knew the desperation was all over his face. But at that moment, he didn't give a shit. He just needed to finally, _finally_ be fucked by this man.

The singer visibly swallowed, lips parted, chest heaving. But he nodded, hand holding one of the teen's cheeks, the right holding his dick as he finally entered the younger guy.

Both males let out groans at the sensation, the blond at being filled, the brunet at being covered. He didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, buried to the hilt, both of them gasping for air. That's when it hit the teen: he was finally officially having sex with the man he'd been lusting after for months.

Holy. Shit.

Who said dreams don't come true?

James paused, unmoving, a strange mix of emotions on his face. Kendall's brow furrowed as he looked up at the elder male, as he realized the singer wasn't holding still just to let him adjust, but to also allow the brunet to deal with shit himself.

"James?" he questioned, swallowing hard, trying to focus on the other male and what was going on, rather than the feel of him inside and how badly he needed him to move. "You okay?"

The brunet nodded, forcing a small smile, one that only lasted a second-if that. "Great. Just." He paused, breathing shakily, head hanging before he spoke quietly, like he was hoping the blond wouldn't hear. "Hate how perfect you are."

The teen's confusion grew, mouth opening to speak. He wanted to argue, to say that he _wasn't_ perfect, that he was the exact opposite, that he had no clue what it was the other male saw in him. He also wanted to ask what was wrong with being perfect, why he hated it, why he said it like it was a bad thing. He knew he wasn't like that, knew James wasn't either, but sometimes feelings get in the way, made you see someone in a better light, whether it was the limelight shining on a fave celeb, or your own personal spotlight shining on the one you were falling for.

"Love is blind" was a cliche for a reason.

And, okay, maybe Kendall was a lil guilty of finding James perfect, flawless, unmarred, despite how shitty the singer treated him at times, leaving him high and dry, disappearing for a few days before calling outta the blue, avoiding deep conversations or anything even remotely personal. But the teen still thought the elder male was... well, perfect. And he didn't see anything wrong or anything bad or anything problematic about it.

So for the pop star to say he hated it was confusing as fuck, not to mention indicative of some deep shit.

But Kendall never got a chance to say any of that, never got to question it, barely even got a chance to fully think it through. James had pulled back and slammed into him, wrenching a deep groan from the younger male.

The blond's eyes closed, head tilting back as the pain of being stretched and the pleasure of being thrust into washed over him. The brunet's hands moved to the smaller male's thighs, legs draped over broad shoulders as he moved in and out shallowly. Arms out to the side, the teen fisted the comforter below him, small pants forced out with each short thrust.

"Goddamn, you're tight," the singer commented, licking his lips, head tilted back.

The smaller male watched a drop of sweat run down the larger's neck, pooling in his collarbone before continuing its southbound journey. He wanted to lick it up, lick the other male all over. He wanted to do a lotta shit with him but only as long as he was still being fucked into.

James shifted positions, leaning forward and pushing Kendall's legs back, practically folding him in half. Large forearms rested on either side of the teen, the elder male on his knees, hips flexing as they had back in the dressing room, only now they were driving his dick into the smaller male in long, deep thrusts.

The blond wrapped his arms around the brunet, groans turning to desperate pants as he was repeatedly filled, stretched more than he ever had been before. A swear left him on a breath, his head tilting back against the pillow. He felt fingers tangle in his sweat-soaked hair at the top of his head, felt a tongue trace the column of his throat. God, he could feel James _everywhere_, not just where his cock moved in and out or where their bodies pressed together. He could feel the brunet pounding in his bloodstream, still taste him on his tongue, smell the combined scents of the singer's natural musk, body spray, and sex. His head was spinning, body no longer under his control, and he felt almost drunk, almost high, almost but _way_ better.

Kendall tightened up during one particularly deep thrust, clenching around the other male's dick and relishing the reaction he got. James' free left arm shot out, hand grabbing the top of the headboard as he gasped. He lifted his head, dark eyes meeting green ones, jaw tense as he took in the younger male's grin.

"Lil shit," the brunet practically growled, pulling on blond hair as he lowered his head and sank his teeth into the side of the teen's neck.

The smaller male yelled out a "fuck!", eyes nearly leaving his skull, clenching hard around the larger male once again.

James let out a noise that was a combo of a whine and a groan, teeth releasing Kendall's skin. He sat up once more, back in his previous position, dick slipping out with the motion and making the blond whimper at the loss. The brunet slid back inside, lifting the smaller male's legs and locking his ankles behind his neck. Making some slight adjustments, he gripped the younger male's hips and started pounding into him in short, hard thrusts.

Kendall's eyes closed tight at the onslaught, left hand fisting the comforter once more, right hand scrambling for purchase on James' thigh. This was what he'd wanted, what he'd fantasized about: the singer completely owning him, slamming into him, ruining him. He wanted to be reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and begs, pleasure and pain, sweat and come. He wanted to be fucked in every sense of the word, from the literal meaning of having sex to the metaphorical one of never being the same again.

And from the pounding his ass was taking, he had a feeling the brunet was tryna do just that.

He opened his eyes, fingers digging into the other male's thigh, in an attempt to make sure it was all real, that it was _actually_ happening and he was _actually_ having sex with James. And he was. The whole thing was really going on, not some fantasy. And he wasn't just fucking some other dude and putting the pop star's face on him, because honestly? His imagination wasn't good enough to do that. No way would he be able to imagine the tiny beads of sweat rolling down flat pecs, past that lil mole he had. No way would he be able to imagine the rippling and flexing of abdominals he drooled over on his computer. No way would he be able to imagine the slack jaw, the reddened cheeks, the dark eyes, or the mix of amazement, pleasure, ache, need, and the countless other emotions currently on the larger male's face.

But godfuckingdamn if it wasn't a beautiful sight, one that was enough to make him blow his load right then and there.

Kendall's hand moved from the other male's thigh to his own dick, fingers wrapping around and jerking it. His motions were frantic, sloppy, but he didn't care. He was close and his messy technique was still working, still helping his orgasm get closer.

"Fuck, that's hot," James commented, eyes trained downward, watching the teen stroke himself. "Wanna watch you. Jerk off. Shit!" He swore out as the blond tightened around him again. "Oh, fuck. One day."

"Whatever you want," the younger male agreed, knowing that at that moment, he could be asked to fuck down on a cactus covered in barbed wire and broken glass and he'd do it. "Fuck! So close." His eyes closed again, body writhing around on the bed, trying to thrust down on the other male.

"Shit, c'mon, Kendall. Lemme see it," the singer demanded, pausing to lick his lips. "Wanna see you come." He leaned forward, placing one hand on the bed, locking his arm as he braced his weight.

The slight change in angle had the brunet rubbing against his prostate with every thrust and it wasn't long before Kendall felt his orgasm hit, more intense and more powerful than before. His back arched, swears and the other male's name tumbling out in a nonsensical ramble he didn't wanna _begin_ to figure out. He felt his come spurting out, hitting his chest and stomach, as the rest of his body numbed out, toes curling to the point of pain.

It took him a long moment to recover, to realize his legs had fallen and that the other male had stilled his actions. Opening his eyes, he saw the look of awe on James' face, saw the tenseness in his body, his own orgasm seeming to be _justthere_. Legs on either side of the other male, the blond pushed himself up, holding his body raised with his left arm on the bed, right hand grabbing the back of the brunet's neck to help pull himself up, the elder male's dick slipping out once more. He crashed their lips together, teeth smashing against skin, a whimper leaving the singer. Kendall pulled his lips back, meeting the pop star's eyes, determination glowing in his own green orbs.

"C'mon, James," he urged, grinding down in the other male's lap. "Lemme feel you fill me up."

The brunet groaned before leaning forward, causing the blond to fall onto his back, then got into his previous sitting position. He grabbed hold of the smaller male at the juncture of his hips and thighs, using his spread legs as handles in a way, pulling the other male to him as he lined his cock up and slammed forward. The teen moaned at the feeling, fighting to keep his eyes open. He'd be damned if anything was gonna stop him from seeing the pop star orgasm.

It took a few short, quick thrusts, but James was soon coming. He slowed his motions, moving the blond at a more leisurely pace, his head tilting back, eyes closed, jaw slack as he moaned out Kendall's name. A blissed out look was on his face, a lazy grin spreading across it, as the blond felt the pulsing inside him of the condom being filled.

Fully spent, the singer pulled out and collapsed on his back next to the younger male. Both were silent, both were breathing hard, but both had just experienced amazing orgasms so fuck everything else.

Kendall's hand slid off his torso, limbs feeling like jello, flopping onto the bed. Well, partially on the bed. It also partially fell on James' hand. Now halfway in control of his limbs, the blond moved his hand, taking hold of the brunet's and linking their fingers together in a cheesy ass way of some sorta post-coital connection, one he never really needed until then.

It lasted about two seconds before James got up and off the bed.

What the fuck?

Kendall sat up, brow furrowed, watching the other male walk around the end of the bed. Hurt and rejection pierced through his after-orgasm bliss, stabbing him in the gut and the chest, earlier thoughts of being nothing but a sex toy to the pop star returning.

Unwanted. Unneeded. Unloved.

But the worst part wasn't the hurt or the rejection or the feelings of being used. It was the fact that he was okay with all that shit, if it meant he was with the singer at all, if it meant the elder male was giving him the physical attention he craved, if it meant the brunet was fucking him like that.

He clearly needed to put out an APB on his balls because despite having just emptied themselves, they had apparently gone missing.

He kept his eyes on the other male, refusing to think about what an amazing back he had or how hot those muscles looked as they rolled and flexed with the motion of him walking or how bad he wanted to slap that great ass as he pounded into it. Instead, he focused on the surety of the singer's movements as he headed to the bathroom, taking the condom off at the same time.

Like he'd done it before.

_Several_ times before.

Kendall let out a snort, rolling his eyes as he shook his head in disbelief. He was probably one in a mile long list of conquests for the pop star, just another name in his Lil Black Book of Groupies. He was seriously deluding himself if he thought he was anything different, anything special. Hell, the guy had condoms and lube in his suitcase just waiting to be used. This clearly wasn't his first time doing this.

James stopped a foot or so away from the bathroom, turning to the teen still on the bed, having seemingly heard the noise the blond as let out. "What?"

The younger male shook his head, bending his left leg so his foot was flat on the comforter and his knee was up. "Nothing," he lied, resting his elbow on his knee and shoving his hand in his hair.

The brunet cocked an eyebrow for a brief second before shrugging it off and continuing on his way.

A sigh escaped the blond, hand smearing over his face, realizing he'd blown a good fucking shot at getting some answers, some clarification. With a mental 'fuck it', he decided to just go for it, to just ask anyway and not give a shit how it seemed or what the other male thought.

"So," he started. "The condoms and lube?"

"I had Logan get me some," James' voice drifted through from the bathroom, the light inside now on, body not visible through the open doorway. "Can't be caught buying that shit. There's enough rumors about my sexuality out there."

Okay, that made sense. But that didn't really mean shit. He could've had the assistant replenish his supply, having run out of the stuff beforehand.

"So you didn't actually have any?" Kendall pressed, fingers running through his hair. "You don't, like, travel with it, just in case."

"Nope." The singer exited the bathroom, flipping the light off as he went, a white fabric square in his hand. "What? You think I do this all the time?"

'_Yes._'

'_Shut up._'

He dropped his hand, letting it hang over his lap as he shrugged his shoulder. "I dunno. Do you?"

The brunet's lips twisted up at the corner, amused laugh leaving him as he put one knee on the bed. "No," he answered, pushing on the blond's upper chest until he was laying down before wiping the come off him with the wipe he'd gotten from the bathroom. "You were the first. For a lotta shit." The second part was spoken in that low reluctant voice, eyes pointed down as he watched what he was doing and avoided eye contact.

Kendall couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his face. "Really?"

"Yeah."

The teen felt his stomach flip at the possibilities of what exactly those firsts could be. First fan to spend the weekend with him. First guy he'd been with. First person he had deep feelings for.

First mistake. First fucked up mental case he slept with. First asshole with major fucking issues he invited into his world.

Green eyes turned downward, locking onto the tan hand moving the wipe over pale skin. "Why?" he asked lowly, clearing his throat to remove the roughness from his voice. "Why me?"

James immediately stood up, crumpling up the wipe and tossing it onto the nightstand before he walked towards the end of the bed. "I already told you why."

The blond followed the brunet with his eyes, watching him round the end of the bed. "No, you didn't," he argued as he scooted back, shuffling so he was no longer on top of the comforter.

"Yes, I did." The singer pulled the blanket back, sitting on the mattress and covering his lap.

Getting under the comforter with him, the younger male kept his eyes on the elder, seriously not remembering hearing anything like that, knowing he wouldn't be able to forget something that huge. "Then remind me."

James let out a harsh sigh. "Go to sleep, Kendall," he ordered, laying on his side, facing away from the teen.

Oh. Fuck. That. He might've been shutting the younger male out metaphorically, but there was no way the blond was gonna allow himself to be shut out physically, too.

Kendall moved over, laying alongside the larger male, arm draped over the brunet' waist. He didn't care about drying sweat or...well whatever was on that wipe, nor did he care that they both kinda stunk and needed a shower. He needed the closeness more, needed the connection, needed...he needed a fucking cuddle, goddammit.

A small laugh left the singer and he turned his head to look at the teen. "Oh, so you're big spoon, huh?"

"I am tonight," he replied, cocky grin on his face. "You can be big spoon next time."

The brunet froze, tensed up, swallowing audibly. "Next time?" he asked shakily.

"Yeah." The blond's brow furrowed and he raised up on one arm, pulling away slightly. "Unless you don't wanna."

A large hand clamped down around his small wrist, holding him in place. "No, I-" He stopped, seeming unsure of what he was tryna say. His eyes shifted down, watching as he slid his hand to cover the other male's entwining their fingers. "Yeah. Big spoon." His voice was low, like he wasn't entirely comfortable with it but was still willing to give it a shot for whatever reason.

Kendall cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at the brunet. "You're not much of a cuddler, are you?"

James shook his head, eyes still on their layered hands. "Not really, no."

"That's okay," the teen commented as he laid back down, snuggling into the elder male's back and tightening his arm around his waist. "Neither am I."

The brunet laughed, the blond joining in, the two then exchanging "good night"s. Kendall pressed a kiss between James, shoulder blades, nuzzling into his broad back, soon falling asleep as he held the other male close.


	29. Hey There's That Deja Vu Thing Again

_**A/N: **__Um, so. Literally. I didn't work on this for, like, three weeks. Then just sat and wrote it over two days. But I just... I dunno, wasn't into it, no inspiration or desire to work on it. Whatever. Blame Captain America/Chris Evans. I know Linda does ;) HE HAD A DATE, LINDA! HE. HAD. A. _**DATE!**

_Anyway, here it is. Update. Woot woot! This was planned *cough*horndogs*cough* but also is kind of a way of maybe sucking up and hoping you guys won't stay too pissed at me for taking so long. And I'd say it won't be this long before the next update, but I was taught never to lie soooo... Anyhoo, enjoy the update and um... Oh yeah, a review would be nice. Ya know, something other than "great chapter" or "update". Winkwinknudgenudge. Also, I've listened to nothing but the score from "Sunshine" for three days straight now. It'll probably be obvious at certain points during this...Right, gonna stop rambling and go. Until next time, people. I may or may not be off to watch a movie featuring a guy in a star spangled suit. *grabs tissues*_

* * *

Sometimes, deja vu really fucking sucks, like the hurt and rejection felt in a dressing room when the guy you're into closes off and pulls away. Or when you take a frozen puck to the same unprotected part of your stomach. Or when someone tells you they don't love you, they never loved you, never wanted you.

Always fucking fun.

But then there were those rare occurrences where deja vu was awesome. Like when you wake up to lips on the nape of your neck, a hard body pressed against your back, even harder length between your asscheeks, and a hand stroking your cock. Kendall could get used to being woken up that way, get used to—and even _enjoy_—that sense of deja vu.

A moan escaped him, more ragged than usual due to sleep and previous activities, as his hips started moving, forward into James' grip and back against his dick.

The singer groaned, lips curving into a smile on the back of the teen's neck. "Mornin'," he greeted the younger male, his own voice a little rough. "You're a loud mouth breather."

The blond's eyes shot open, vaguely noting that it was still pretty much pitch black in the hotel room, the only light coming from the lamps outside in the parking lot. "What?" he retorted, not bothering to hide how offended he was or how much he didn't believe the brunet.

"It's true," the pop star stated, nuzzling the other male's hair line with his nose. The words he was speaking ghosted over pale skin, causing a shudder to race throughout the teen. "It's like sleeping next to Darth Vader."

Kendall let out an insulted scoff, jaw hanging in offense, face full of disbelief. "I do not."

"How would you know?" James questioned, nose grazing the other male, blowing on a weak spot behind the teen's ear that made the younger male bite down on his lower lip. "You're asleep."

The blond felt the hand around his cock lazily stroke towards the head, the organ swelling, filling with blood. "Yeah, well," he started, struggling to come up with a good response as his arm straightened out away from him, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress. "You snore."

"No way," the singer argued, licking the shell of the other male's ear before sucking on the lobe.

"How would you know? You're asleep."

The brunet released the blond's ear, letting out a grumble, clearly not happy his own words were being used against him. "I just know that I don't."

"But you do."

"Do not." He punctuated his argument by biting down on the teen's neck, making him gasp then groan, hips bucking, eyes closing.

"You don't fight fair," he complained breathily, grinding back against the other male and smiling at the whimper it caused.

"You weren't agreeing with me," James stated, pressing random kisses all over the blond's slim neck.

Kendall opened his eyes and rolled them, thinking that was a stupid and immature fucking reason, wondering when they went back to the first grade. "I'm not gonna agree with you when you're wrong."

"I'm never wrong. I'm James Diamond."

Another eye roll. "And I'm Kendall Knight and I don't give a fuck. I'm not gonna kiss your ass or say I agree when I don't, no matter how many platinum records or number one singles you have."

The brunet pulled back slightly, propping himself up on an elbow, the blond peeking up at him out the corner of his green eyes, seeing the quizzical look on his face. "Remind me again why I'm hanging out with you?"

The teen smirked, reaching behind himself and wrapping his hand around the other male's dick. "'Cause I give great head."

Letting out a small whimper, the singer licked his lips, eyelids drifting halfway down his eyes, hips bucking into the younger male's grip. "That you do," he commented before leaning back down, sucking on the smaller male's neck.

Kendall let out a gasp that turned into a moan, feeling the other male's muscular frame pressing into his back. His fingers flexed, releasing their hold on the edge of the mattress, his hips rolling, before the digits regained their grip. He felt the singer move his hand from around his dick to his hip, body lifting once more, turning the blond onto his stomach. After a few adjustments and maneuvers, the teen was pressed into the mattress, hips held in a bruising grip, the elder male straddling him and rubbing his cock between the younger's cheeks.

"Oh, fuck, James," he breathed out, burying his head in his pillow, gripping the sheet underneath as he lifted his pelvis and ground back. He was still open, still stretched, his dick and hole both twitching at the feeling of a hard length being pressed where he wanted it to be so bad.

James pressed kisses on the back of his neck, tongue tracing along the edge of his hairline, tasting the salt and sweat that was already forming on his skin. He sat up, fingers tracing down the length of his spine, before the flat of his hand curved over one cheek, gentle, affectionate, too much for the blond to handle and causing him to shiver. The brunet kissed his way down the smaller male's back, an open mouthed touch to each ridge, each vertebrae of his spine.

Until he got to Kendall's ass.

The teen was breathing shakily, almost trembling in anticipation, knowing what was coming next. They'd talked about it, almost had done it earlier that day—or the day before technically, but fuck if that mattered—and now it was finally gonna happen.

He turned his head to the side, swallowing hard, struggling to pull air in, forcing his fingers to relax their death grip on the cotton sheet. Probably should tell his toes to relax, too, considering how bad they hurt from where they were curled under the comforter.

Which was now being tossed to the side.

The blond closed his eyes tight, licking his lips before pressing them together, resisting the urge to curl up into a ball and hide himself. Not that he could with a hundred-eighty or so pounds of muscle on top of him. But as it was, he felt incredibly exposed, vulnerable, self-conscious as hell. Laying on a bed naked wasn't exactly something he did. His experience with sex tended to end with him putting his clothes back on and leaving. Very rarely did the other guy take the time to actually look at him, to actually map out weaknesses or faults or flaws on him. All he could think about were scars from years of hockey and just general rough-housing with Carlos as a kid. All he could think about was his mom's nagging at how he was looking too skinny and needed to eat a sandwich. All he could think about was how small he felt in comparison to James.

Self-Loathing, party of one, your table's ready.

Kendall felt the elder male move between his legs, felt them being spread apart, heard the mattress creak as the singer got settled. Hands gripped his cheeks, spreading them apart, and the blond felt his heart pounding, his stomach twisting, his muscles tensing. Then the pop star made his move.

James trailed his tongue between Kendall's cheeks, barely grazing over his hole. The puckered entrance twitched, tightening up then opening, as the teen raised his hips, attempting to get more contact. The singer flicked his tongue over it, making the blond whimper, hands fisting the sheet, lip bitten down on. He flicked his tongue again, and again, before slowly dragging it over the hole, a shuddered moan leaving the smaller male.

The brunet adjusted his grip, thumbs by the blond's hole, holding him open, before using his tongue once more. He traced around the entrance, over it, sliding his tongue inside just long enough to allow the other male to know it was in there before quickly pulling it out again.

"Fuckin' tease," the younger male breathed out, feeling the elder's chuckle ghost over his skin.

"You know it." An open mouth kiss was placed on one cheek, then the other, before his mouth fixed itself around the teen's hole and sucked.

"Oh shit!" Kendall's hips raised on their own, eyes shooting open, fingers flexed, toes curled. He could feel James' smirk against his skin, the singer kissing his entrance twice before sucking on it hard, longer this time. The blond was whimpering, eyes closed, arm shooting down to grab hold of something, anything, finding purchase on the pop star's forearm.

The brunet kept up his ministrations, sucking on the blond's hole, his tongue sliding in and swirling around. He flicked his tongue over it, slid it in and out, licked over and around and in. He pulled his head back, spitting inside the open entrance, sliding a finger inside and swirling the saliva around the puckered skin. He moved the digit in and out, licking and sucking around, a second finger joining the first as he played with the smaller male's still stretched hole.

The teen was shaking, breathing out moans. His hips were flexing on their own, cock rubbing roughly against the sheet, precome leaking out the tip. He wondered why he'd never been eaten out before, soon deciding he'd never really wanted anyone to. There was something way too intimate about having a guy so close to him, right at his entrance. It was one thing to have a dick inside of him; it was another thing entirely to have a face _right there_.

But fuck was it amazing. And while he wasn't entirely sure if it was the actions or the fact that it was James doing it that made it so incredible, he knew he didn't care. He was just gonna close his eyes and fucking enjoy the ride.

Well, was gonna do that anyway, until his impatience got the best of him.

His fingers dug into the other male's tan skin, hips still moving, breathing nothing more but harsh pants and loud moans as he slightly trembled. He needed more, needed something other than a couple fingers, needed to be filled in that perfect way only James was capable of doing. "Fuck," he breathed out, eyes opening, head tilting down. He caught only the top of the singer's head, only saw brunet locks, only saw his hand gripping onto tan skin as his ass was held spread apart. "Fuck me. Please. Oh god!" His eyes slammed shut and his head tilted back as he felt those fingers rub against his prostate, teasing, arousing, making his dick hurt with need.

"Say the magic words," the singer teased, kissing one cheek, smirking against pale skin.

"I will fucking kill you."

A chuckle left the elder male, fingers hooking inside of the younger and continuing their assault on the bundle of nerves.

"_Christ_! You motherfucker!"

"I'd rather be a Kendall-fucker."

"Get inside me and you can be a Kendall-fucker all you want." He was desperate, sounded it, but he didn't care. He moved his free arm, folding it under his neck, forearm resting on the mattress. Slightly bending his knees, he lifted himself off the bed some, hoping to gain more friction inside of him, hoping to ease the pain in his cock, hips still thrusting as he humped air.

"Impatient lil shit, aren't you?" It was said with a slight joking tone, but James still sat up, fingers remaining inside the teen, a third easily sliding inside.

Kendall gasped out, forehead on his arm, back arched. "Oh god, just _please_."

The fingers left him, his hole still gaping and twitching, grasping onto nothing but air. He heard the shuffling behind him, felt body heat and muscles as James reached over to the nightstand, grabbing hold of the lube and condoms. The rip of foil, the snap of rubber, the pop of a cap, then the squirt of liquid. All the sounds were taunting, mocking, making him aware of how close yet how far he was from being filled again.

The blond shifted, raising more onto his knees, forearms on the bed as he held himself up. He was still trembling, breathing still shaky, but he didn't care, didn't even think to try and calm himself down. He was too far gone while not being pushed far enough. He just wanted, needed, _craved_.

Hands were placed on his hips, a wet tip pressed against his entrance before pushing in, filling him up. Kendall let out a gasp, eyes opening wide, groaning as he felt James' fully enter him.

"Fuck." The swear was a praise breathed out from behind, the grip on his hips tightened. A shaky inhale, a harsh exhale, then the brunet began pulling out.

The blond felt his muscles relax, then tense up as the larger male pushed back inside. His fingers curved into fists, his lack of nails digging into his palms, his head hanging loose off tight shoulders. He breathed out a curse at the feel of the other male moving in and out, eyes drifting closed again, mind getting lost in other sensations. He could feel the stretch as he was filled, the emptiness as the singer pulled back. He could feel the other male's grip on him, feel the bruises practically being formed on pale skin. He could feel the slap of the larger male's pelvis against his ass, their balls colliding, rubbing. He could feel his own dick throbbing, feel it aching, begging wordlessly to be touched. He could feel the sweat forming on his skin, running down his neck, his arms, his legs.

But it wasn't just physical sensations that were heightened. He could hear the slap of their skin, the slick slide of the other male's cock as it pushed and pulled inside, the harsh breathing and stuttered moans. He could smell the sweat covering both of them, their own natural musks, that indescribable scent that could only be defined as "sex". He could practically taste the headiness in the air, the fucking, the arousal, the... _everything_ as he panted, jaw slack, mouth open wide as he pulled air in in large gasps. It was fucking to the next degree, something that went beyond just having a dick sliding in and out of him. And the entire thing had him trembling on his knees and forearms.

James set a rhythm that was steady, not slow but not fast, driving into the smaller male at a regular pace. His hands smoothed down Kendall's spine, stroking, petting, soothing. He leaned down, arms wrapped around the younger male's waist, pressing kisses to the damp skin on his shoulders, his neck, his back. His breath stuttered as it left him, ghosting over pale flesh in a jerky rhythm out of touch with the smooth glide of his hips.

Kendall felt himself gasping, moving one arm so his hand was flat on the bed, fisting the sheet, elbow bent at an outward angle. He arched his back, allowing the larger male to drive into him deeper, causing them both to groan, to swear, to lose themselves for a moment and just _feel_.

"God, you feel so good," the brunet breathed out, the words tickling sweat-soaked skin on an already sensitive part of the blond's neck. He bit the flesh there, making the younger male cry out, head rearing back onto a broad shoulder, before kissing the mark better. "Fuck! You are _such_ a bottom."

"Fuck you." It wasn't the best response in the world, but the teen had lost the ability to think long ago, the moment he felt the elder male's tongue on his hole, stabbing inside of him.

"Maybe some other time," he grunted, pushing himself back up onto his knees. "Wanna fuck you good first."

The blond groaned, head dropping down once more, as the brunet started pounding into him at a rapid pace. An "ah fuck!" was pulled from his lungs, toes curled, fingers fisting whatever they could grab onto, falling onto his forearm again. Every thrust was rubbing against his prostate, every pound was felt all over, the force of it pushing him forward. He reached a hand out, gripping the top of the headboard, using it to brace himself and stop from being shoved into it, using it to push back against the other male.

James' grip on Kendall's hips grew tighter, harder, fingers digging in and bruising more than before. He was relentless, slamming into the smaller male without a care, seeming to only give a shit about coming. Which was rapidly approaching for the blond.

The teen's head fell down further, forehead pressed against his forearm once again, right hand releasing the headboard and reaching back for contact with the elder male, grabbing hold of a large wrist and digging his fingers in. He could feel the muscles flexing, the blood pumping, tendons straining and relaxing. His breath was practically being shoved out his lungs in harsh exhales that hurt his throat, raw moans being forced from his chest up through parted lips that felt dry, cracked, bitten red and sore. He was a crumbling mess, a fraction of what he'd been before, seams barely held together and threatening to fully break apart within a few moments, all because of the male slamming into him from behind.

Kendall felt his eyes drift closed again, felt that familiar fire overtake him, radiating from where the other male was driving into him, spreading throughout his body, flames licking at every inch of his being. It was like he was hurtling towards the sun, being guided, being pushed closer with each thrust, each pound. It was unbearable, excruciating, intense, yet beautiful, overwhelming, awe-inspiring. He wanted to feel the heat, the flames, the devastating power of it all. He wanted to be burned alive, wanted to be scorched, wanted to be engulfed and destroyed.

And the way his orgasm was building inside, he knew he'd more than likely get that wish.

"Fu-uck." The broken swear was pounded outta him, followed by a long groan, a weak whimper, a hard swallow. The base of his spine was tingling, cock aching, begging to be touched. And fuck, did he want to. But his fingers seemed to be locked around the singer's wrist, his other arm struggling to hold him up, and all he could do was let out a noise that sounded vaguely like a sob.

"You close?"

He nodded, the sweat on his arm and forehead making the motion easier. A muffled "mm-hmm" sounded out and he wasn't entirely sure if he made it or not. Thinking hadn't been an option for a while, and that sure as shit hadn't changed. But he knew he was close, beyond close really, so fucking almost there that it would only take a hand touching his dick to make him blow.

So why James pulled out was beyond him.

Kendall didn't get a chance to complain, to make any sorta pissed off noise. He was flipped onto his back, legs splayed, too weak to be held up. The elder male settled between the limbs, settled on his own legs, then lined himself up and thrust back inside, hands on the younger's thighs for leverage. The blond let out a whine tinged groan, head rearing back, eyes slammed shut, fingers tightly gripping the sheet on either side of him. He couldn't handle it, couldn't take it, couldn't...

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

"C'mon, Kendall," the brunet started, still slamming into him, still pounding, still holding on hard. "Lemme see you come apart. Wanna see it."

The teen opened his eyes, looking up to see the elder male staring down at him, at his dick as it throbbed on his abdomen. He was waiting for it, totally enraptured, enthralled. He wanted to see the younger male come, wanted to see him blow. And fucking hell was that sexy.

That thought in mind, the blond tried his damnedest to keep his eyes locked on the other male's face as he felt himself begin to fall apart. Only it was too no avail. His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head as his skull leaned back, spine arching, toes curled so far he was surprised they didn't break. He knew he was coming solely because he was feeling something wet hit his torso, but the rest of his body had gone completely numb. He was burning, he was being engulfed, he was seeing that blinding light that could only come from being swallowed by the sun. It was terrifying, it was thrilling, it was...fuck, it was just _awesome_.

James stilled his motions, wrapping his fingers around Kendall's dick, stroking him, milking him for all he had. The blond could do little more than lay there, trembling, shaking, his body convulsing as his orgasm still washed over him. Part of him was aware that the brunet was pulling out, moving, shifting down between his legs and leaving over him, but a much bigger part of him didn't realize any of it was happening. Not until he felt a tongue on his torso.

He opened his eyes and locked down, seeing the elder male licking up the come on his chest and stomach. The tip of the singer's tongue inadvertently hit his cock a few times, causing full body spasms and gasps to hit the teen, the oversensitive organ unable to handle to contact. The pop star wrapped a hand around his base, taking him in his mouth, deep throating him and causing him to practically cry out. It was too much, _way_ too much, and he nearly begged the other male to stop.

It took him a long moment to recover, still slightly shaking as he managed to meet the singer's still dark eyes. It hit him what happened, what was going on, that the other male hadn't come. In a sudden burst of energy, he sat up, hands on the brunet's chest and pushing him back onto his spine. He kissed him hard, tongues battling, lips smashing and bruising against teeth. One hand on the other male's chest, he reached down and rolled off the condom, tossing it to the side before pulling his head away. No hesitation in sight, he moved down, taking the other male's cock in his mouth.

"Ah, shit!" James let out a gasp, leaning back on his elbows, head hanging behind him. His stomach clenched up, muscles tight yet spasming.

Kendall flicked his eyes up as he swallowed as much of the elder's dick as he could, loving the sight. The small amount of light from the parking lot outside threw shadows over the singer's frame, causing his abdominals to seem more cut, his jawline more angular, his adam's apple more prevalent as he swallowed hard. God, even in the low light he was beautiful, a work of art, something that the teen knew he didn't deserve but for some reason was actually allowed to be in his presence.

At least for the moment.

Shoving that thought aside, he set to work on the brunet's dick, pulling him out and sucking on the head. He heard as well as felt the other male's small "ah" noises, felt fingers being tangled in his hair, the strands tugged. Moans left the teen at the sensation, the sounds vibrating around the elder male's cock, causing his hips to buck up.

"Oh goh—fuh—_shit_!" The nonsense ramblings were accompanied by a moan, another thrust of the hips. And as the younger male gave one hard suck, the elder blew his load, body tensing up as a stream of profanities and praises and Kendall's name left his lips in a rush.

The blond swallowed it all, savoring the salty-sweet taste, a feeling of awe hitting him as he realized he'd had the opportunity to go down on the guy he liked—a _celeb crush_ in all technicality—twice now. He licked the other male clean, enjoying every drop, loving the small twitches not only wracking his still hard member, but also throughout his entire body.

James lifted his head up, using the hand in the younger male's head to pull him up, a gruff "c'mere" being commanded as he did so. Kendall went willingly, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was heat, passion, and an underlying gratefulness, an unspoken "thanks" for what had just happened. The blond lost himself in the action, tongues dueling, lips smacking, careful not to allow his tired body to lay on the other males, not wanting their too sensitive cocks to rub and cause pain. Too much, too soon. Still not enough.

The kiss slowed down, trailing off into a few brief meetings of lips, foreheads touching, breath mingling. The teen swallowed hard, watching as the singer licked his lips, both wearing smiles.

"You okay?" the brunet questioned, seeming genuine worried, the hand in blond locks now gentle, stroking.

The smaller male nodded, ignoring the small throb in his backside, knowing it would pass, knowing he'd felt worse. Besides, it was all worth it, knowing he'd had the other male inside him once more enough to make any pain worth it. "Fine. You?"

The pop star laughed, nodding, his free arm rubbing up and down the paler male's arm. "Great."

"Good." Kendall pressed another kiss on the elder male's lips before moving back, flopping backwards onto the mattress, head landing on the pillows. It took James a moment, but he managed to crawl over beside him, landing on his own back on the younger male's left. And, like before, the blond snuggled up to the brunet, arms wrapped around a wide frame, head on a broad chest. And, like before, the elder male froze before embracing the other male.

"Thought you said you weren't a cuddler," he pointed out, one arm around the smaller male, hand on his shoulder.

Kendall snuggled closer, leg laying on top of the other male's. "I'm not. You're just very cuddle-able."

James snorted and the blond could practically feel the eye roll as the singer raised a hand and wiped at his own stubbled chin. "I don't feel like a cuddle-able guy," he stated, dropping his arm to his side. "My family wasn't really one for being cuddly or shit."

If he'd been more awake, more aware, the teen would've realized what a confession that was, how it was a small piece of that wall the singer had being chipped off. A hole had been made, allowing the younger man to peek through, see into what made James James. But as it was, all he was aware of was how tired and worn out he was, how the numbers on the alarm clock across the bed had a blurry four at the beginning of the three-number time, how heavy his eyelids were, and how great sleep sounded at that moment.

He muttered out a "mine neither", which wasn't a lie really, eyes closing. "Mom used ta be. Not no mo'. Think I scared her off which is 'kay 'cause she's nosy and needs to stop talkin'."

"You should be glad your mom wants to talk to you."

"Mmm." It was as non-committal as a sound could be as he felt himself drift off, everything getting blacker as he fell asleep to thoughts about what his mom would think when—_if_, his mind corrected—she met James.

* * *

The room was still mostly dark when Kendall awoke later on, this time on his own. Well, kinda on his own. Mostly it was his bladder.

Fucking asshole.

With a groan, he stretched, realizing he was now on his side, James wrapped around him from behind. A small smile formed on his face and he closed his eyes, satisfied to just stay there forever, safe from the world outside and all its bullshit.

His bladder practically yelled to be emptied.

Major fucking asshole.

Scrunching his face up, he sat up, feeling that broad arm fall down, extracting his legs from under a much larger one. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he turned and looked at the other male, admiring the expanse of naked skin, neither having bothered to pull the comforter over them after their last round. Christ, the guy was huge. Only had about an inch or two of height on Kendall, but he was much wider, more built. He could crush the blond if he wanted, but the teen knew he wouldn't.

Shit. Bladder.

Raising up with stiff limbs, he held back another groan before shuffling over to the bathroom. He closed the door over before doing his business, not wanting to wake the other male up. He looked too cute when he was asleep.

He frowned at the cheesy ass excuse for "art" that hung above the toilet. "Cute"? Seriously? His fucking mental vocabulary was clearly in need of being reworked cause that shit wasn't gonna fly.

Bladder happily emptied, he flushed and washed his hands, heading back to the bed. Only to trip on something on his way.

He looked down at the fabric tangled over his foot, seeing a pair of jeans, feeling something hard under his foot. Hard, flat, and rectangular. Like an iPhone. Fuck, those things were fucking expensive and it took him fucking forever to save up and, shit, those things crack easily.

Moving his foot, he crouched down, reaching into the pocket and taking out the smartphone. He couldn't see anything in the blackness, unable to tell if there were any cracks or other damage done. So logically the only thing he could do was light the screen up.

Which he did.

Only to realize it wasn't his phone, but James'.

Meaning he could see James' lockscreen.

And now he understood why the singer hid it from him.

The picture was only vaguely familiar, mostly because he'd never actually _seen_ it, but he sure as shit remembered it being taken. He remembered feeling the other male pressed against his side, remembered his hand on the singer's back, the larger male's arm wrapped around him and holding him close. He remembered the cameraman counting to three, the flash, the mix of sadness that the moment was over and the joy of having it captured on film forever. He remembered the singer demanding a second picture being taken because his eyes had been closed.

Only that wasn't the truth.

Because on that screen, as clear as the small amount of pixels could allow, was James with his eyes wide open, and staring right at Kendall. And it wasn't just staring, it was a look of awe, of near disbelief that the blond was there, like _he_ was the celeb and the brunet was the star-struck fan. And there was Kendall, totally unaware, lost in his own mental freak-out over being in the other male's embrace. God, he felt like a fucking moron. The entire time he'd been worried over if he was remembered or if the elder male felt the same, had felt the same intensity, the same attraction, the same need to just _be_ together, all that bullshit, and it seemed like the answer to all his questions had the same one word answer.

Yes.

The screen went black as the iPhone went back to sleep, still locked. Kendall stared at it for a few more seconds, hitting the home button to light it up, examining the photo once more. Well, examining James in the photo once more. He took in the small curve of the singer's lips, the light in those hazel eyes, the joy and the strain at trying to hold it all back. The mask was gone. It wasn't James Diamond International Superstar and Total Mystery Man. This was just James, the guy who reluctantly held hands and cuddled even though he wasn't into it, the guy who joked around and gave the blond shit out of pure fun, the guy who had flown the teen out solely because he needed him around. _This_ was the guy Kendall was falling for.

The blond stood up, putting the phone on the nightstand before heading to the bed. James had flopped onto his back, head turned towards the window, away from the blond, but his arm outstretched onto the other male's side. He was at peace, no worries, no need to keep up an image or be this perfect fantasy male to fuel record sales. Here, he was a normal twenty-two year old dude just getting some sleep, and that was way better than some image or fantasy or any other celeb bullshit.

Kendall grabbed hold of the comforter, pulling it up as he laid down, covering both of them up to their waists. He cuddled up to the other male like he had before, his head on a broad shoulder this time, using it and a muscular arm as a pillow, his own lanky limbs over the larger male's frame. He placed a gentle kiss onto his neck, nuzzling his nose against the tan skin, trying to figure out this guy who acted so distant yet with a need to be close. He knew he'd give James whatever the brunet wanted, no matter the cost to himself.

And damn if that didn't make him feel more vulnerable than laying naked in a hotel bed.


	30. Coffee & Convo Make a Balanced Breakfast

_**A/N: **__Blargh okay... I dunno. So not in the mood for anything atm. #WhinyAuthorMode._

_Shout out to StupidWolves on Tumblr for the GORGEOUS fanart! LOVE it! Thank you so much! The lone bright spot in a pretty shit-tacular week._

_Not gonna waste time/space with rambles, cause I don't really have anything to say. Oh, um, stole something Nath said and used it for Camille. I'm sure Nath'll recognize it when she sees it. That or I'll get a "Um, I don't remember what I said lol!" in her review._

_Which, hey, YOU GUYS SHOULD REVIEW 'CAUSE REASONS. #WhinyAuthorModeAgain. #YesImPuttingHashtagsInAuthorNotes. #DealWithIt._

_All right, gonna go. Hope you guys enjoy this. #Bye._

* * *

The room wasn't nearly as bright as Kendall figured it would be when his alarm went off. At first he figured it was just 'cause his eyes were still tired and groggy and sleep-filled, until he rubbed the crap outta them and realized that nope, the sky just wasn't as sunny as he imagined it would be. Weird really. All you ever heard about was how sunny California was, how bright and cheerful, yet at that moment it wasn't.

And, yeah, okay, it was about nine-thirty in the morning, but still. The sun should still be pretty high and bright, the room light. But nope.

Whatever.

He reached over with a hand and slapped the alarm off, not sure if he actually turned it off or hit snooze, certain he'd figure it out soon enough. Arching his back, he stretched where he was laying flat on his spine, a heavy arm loosely draped over his mid-section. He looked down at the muscular limb, seeing the difference between his pale skin and the tan flesh over corded muscle. Following the line of the arm, his eyes came across a still sleeping James laying on his side, peaceful look on his face, not a care in the world as he dreamt. A small smile formed on Kendall's own face, a reluctance hitting him that he had to get up, that he had to leave in order to-

His brow furrowed. Why was he leaving again? Especially when he was naked in bed with a sex god.

Oh. Right. Camille.

Okay, he was actually pretty damn excited about finally meeting her face to face, as well as a little nervous. It wasn't every day one met up with a friend from the internet. And while he knew that she wouldn't judge, wouldn't hold anything against him, he still wasn't entirely sure how to explain everything to her without her looking down on him. After all, he'd flown halfway across the country to pretty much be a celeb's booty call. Even _he_ was judging himself for that shit.

But it was the knowledge that Camille would be nothing but fair and balanced that had him sitting up, rubbing his face wearily. He knew she'd take everything into consideration without any biased feelings, without any preconceived notions about anything, then give an honest opinion about things. And honestly, he wasn't _just_ excited to get a second look at things or another point of view; he was actually pretty excited to meet his friend.

Still. Getting outta bed wasn't exactly an appealing idea.

The alarm went off again, alerting Kendall to the fact that he'd initially hit 'snooze', forcing the blond to groan as he sat up. Turning around, he placed his feet flat on the floor, James' arm sliding off his lap and onto the bed, not seeming to disturb the larger male. The teen focused as he shut off the annoying beeps, wondering how the fuck anyone could sleep through it, only to feel that same arm wrap around his waist and pull him backwards.

He landed sideways on top of the other male, back bent, confusion on his brow. "James?"

"No," he muttered sleepily, eyes still closed. "Stay."

God, it was tempting, especially with the roughness in the singer's voice, the warmth of the arm holding him in place, and the general fact that it was James asking him to remain there. But before he could agree and just slide back into the bed, he mentally reminded himself why he couldn't and why he was up at the ungodly hour of nine am.

"Can't," he stated, hands wrapping around a thick forearm. "Gotta go meet my friend."

The brunet inhaled sharply, stiffening, his entire body tense. The blond turned his head to the singer, seeing the dark look in his eyes, the mask back on his face. He hated it more than ever. The two of them had fucked twice, gone down on each other, had participated in some incredibly intimate acts over the course of just a few hours, yet the elder male was still closed off, still emotionally unavailable, still hiding everything from the younger.

'_Like you're one to talk. Hypocrite._'

Ignoring his brain, he shoved the singer's arm to the side, getting up and heading over to his bag. His ass admittedly hurt, a result of the pounding it had taken and the fact that it'd been so long since he'd last had sex, but he didn't show it. If James was gonna keep shit inside, then fuck-dammit, so was he.

Not that he wasn't already, but that was beside the point.

He crouched down by his duffel, grabbing random clothes, figuring they'd match no matter what. Hard to go wrong when your entire wardrobe consisted of dark tees and jeans. Items in hand, he rose to his feet once more, deciding to change in the bathroom, figuring he'd physically shut the other male out, not just emotionally.

"You need a ride?"

Kendall didn't stop walking, didn't look at the brunet, seeing out the corner of his eyes that he was sitting up in bed, legs bent under the comforter, arms hanging off his knees. "I got it taken care of." Okay, kinda a lie, but whatever. He had the number of a cab company and that was good enough. 'Cause at that moment in time, he'd be damned if he was gonna rely on this asshole for anything.

"You don't need me to drive?"

Okay, that stopped him. The teen paused outside the bathroom door, staring at the singer in disbelief, one eyebrow raised in question. "You really wanna be seen with me in public? Seriously?"

The pop star licked his lips, hand rubbing the back of his head, smoothing his hair down as he stared at the comforter. It was a long moment before he finally answered the way the younger male figured he would. "Probably not a good idea."

The smaller male snorted, letting out a "thought so" before entering the bathroom, closing the door over.

He wasn't entirely sure where exactly the coffee shop was located in town, so he assumed a shower was out the question, no matter how quick. Instead he set about getting dressed, finger combing his hair, rinsing his mouth out with the complimentary mouthwash. No point in brushing his teeth since he was going out for coffee—and food, given the way he stomach growled. Figuring he was looking as good as he was gonna get, he left the bathroom, finding James over by his own suitcase in the corner, boxers on. He didn't say anything, just headed back over to his duffel, grabbing his deodorant and putting some on.

"Who're you meeting again?"

Kendall turned to look at the other male's back, deodorant in hand, only one armpit done. He could see a tenseness in those muscles, as well as hear it in his words. It was as though he was trying to make conversation and just seem interested because it was something important to the blond, yet that same jealous edge was there, that same slightly harsh tone that let the younger male know he wasn't entirely okay with this whole thing.

"Camille," the teen answered, finishing with the deodorant and tossing it into his open duffel. "For coffee and food. No biggie."

James just nodded, head tilted down, eyes focused on his suitcase as his fingers grasped a shirt. Kendall could see the tension in his forearm, could see how hard he was gripping the fabric, even from across the room. "Have fun." The words were bit out, like he was being forced to say it but didn't wish for it to happen.

"Thanks." He said it solely because it seemed like the right thing to say. He honestly didn't know what words to speak to make everything okay, mostly because he wasn't entirely sure what was going on in the other male's head, wasn't entirely sure why he was acting the way he was. Maybe if he did, he'd know what reassuring phrases to say. But as it was, he had nothing. So instead, he just set about collecting his phone and wallet, clipping the chain onto a belt loop. Things gathered, he adjusted his pants around his hips and started heading towards the door.

Only to be stopped once more by his name being called.

He twisted his head to the other male, seeing him turned and facing him, arms folded over his bare chest. He raised an eyebrow in expectation, waiting for the brunet to continued, to say what he wanted to say, to figure it out, judging by the quizzical look on his face.

James turned back to the suitcase, grabbing something before walking over, hand outstretched. "Here."

Kendall looked down at what he was holding, seeing a keycard for the room, probably the spare one so he could get back in. His brow furrowed as he took it, feeling like that wasn't what he wanted to say, because if it had been, he would've had the card in his hand before calling for the blond's attention.

The singer cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—" he started, then paused, another confused look on his face, before that mask came back. "Yeah, have fun."

The teen met dark eyes, seeing an indescribable swirl of emotions in them, an uncertainty, a jealousy, a worry. He didn't want the younger male to go, but he also didn't know how to say it, how to explain his reasons why, if he even knew them.

He slid the card in his pocket, feeling his own iPhone, remembering what he'd seen on the lockscreen of the elder male's, the picture, the look of awe and disbelief on that tan face, like he didn't think he'd ever see the younger male again, like he was relieved to be wrong about believing they'd never meet back up. It was almost like he was just as scared to lose Kendall, as Kendall was to lose James.

That thought in mind, the blond cupped the brunet's face, pressing their lips together in a hard kiss. They breathed out harsh against each other's skin, noses smashed together, the action more of a reassurance than anything. They soon parted, Kendall putting their foreheads together, keeping his eyes locked on the other male's as he spoke.

"There's only you."

James swallowed, hazel orbs tilting down, unable to match the younger male's green gaze, seeming like he couldn't handle it. The blond didn't take offense, simply kissing the brunet gently before pulling back and leaving the bedroom. His beanie was still on the floor near the door and he picked it up, putting it on before leaving the suite, making his way down the hall, into the elevator, and down to the lobby.

The sky outside was dark, a cover of gray clouds covering the sun, explaining the dimness in the room. The air was humid, sticky, seeming more like typical California weather and alerting all to an impending storm. It never felt like that in Minnesota, not this late in the year.

A cab was dropping people off outside the hotel, available to take Kendall, which was good cause he'd totally forgotten to call for a ride and wasn't in the mood to wait. He gave the driver the name and location of the coffee shop Camille had told him about before getting in the backseat, then waited as the car pulled away from the building and onto the main road.

The ride was uneventful, only memorable in the fact that the cab had the distinct smell of pot and was driven by a dude who was clearly a hippie, given the long gray hair and the fact that a live recording of Woodstock was being played. So clearly, the drive seemed to take forever, music torturing him the entire way there.

'_At least it's not Bieber._'

'_Thank fuck for small favors._'

The cab pulled up outside a coffee shop in a more suburban area of the city, one that shared a parking lot with a strip mall containing a grocery store, a couple chain restaurants, one of those "everything for a dollar" joints, and a hair salon. Kendall paid the driver, getting out the cab with a cough, wondering why and how his mom hadn't literally busted his ass for coming home smelling like that. In a sudden burst of paranoia and anxiety, he pulled his iPhone out his pocket and checked his messages, seeing nothing new. A relieved sigh left him as he slid it back in his jeans then entered the coffee shop.

The place wasn't anything fancy, just like any other shop in the country. A counter ran along the left side, glass shelves displaying pastries and bagels, a space for ordering and paying, another for drink pick-ups. A couple employees were behind it, ringing customers up, creating drinks, working the drive-thru. The main part of the building featured scattered round tables, the area in the back corner containing a couple couches and armchairs, people of various looks and styles milling about. It wasn't overly crowded, only a few folks, but none he was interested in spending any time looking at.

Kendall headed straight to the counter, ordering an iced mocha and a cinnamon raisin bagel. He handed the cashier his money, got his change, then turned around, scanning the customers once more and finding the female he was looking for.

Camille sat in the corner by the windows at the front of the shop, a flowery looking sundress on her petite frame, eyes trained on her smartphone, sipping her own drink from a paper cup. A danish sat untouched on a plate in front of her, probably waiting on him to arrive before she ate, and he wondered how long she'd been there. A quick glance at a clock on the back wall showed that he was actually a couple minutes early so it couldn't have been that long.

Hitching his pants up at his hips, he walked over, pulling out the seat in front of her and plopping down on it—which was a mistake given how his ass screamed at him. "Waitin' on someone?"

She slightly jumped, eyes torn away from her phone, looking up at him with wide orbs. It only took a second before recognition flashed on her porcelain features, a huge smile forming. "Kendall!"

He couldn't help but smile back, the worry and anxiety gone. He had nothing to freak about, nothing to fear. This was just Camille, his internet buddy, the girl who kept things real and gave him hell when he deserved it. He didn't have to impress her, didn't have to put up a front—not anymore anyway. He could just be Kendall and she'd still accept him and be his friend, whether or not he felt like he deserved her.

"You been here long?"

She shook her head, putting her phone down and taking another sip of her drink. "Nope. Only a few minutes. Figured I'd show a lil early and get a good table away from people, because _wow_ do I have some things to tell you."

He scratched his head under his beanie, shifting in his seat, trying to get in a comfy position that didn't put pressure on his sore ass. "Good, 'cause I got some shit to tell you, too."

"I'm assuming it has something to do with why you're moving around so much," she pointed out, motioning to him with her cup before placing it on the table, a salacious smirk on her face.

The grin couldn't be kept from his own face. No matter how awkward and weird James had been that morning, Kendall still felt a bit of post-sex happiness.

Before either of them could speak further, the blond's name was called out, his food and drink ready. He quickly grabbed the items, sitting back in the same chair, in the same position, sipping his iced drink. Tasted pretty damn good, the right mix of sweetness and caffeine that he needed.

"So," Camille started, grabbing her plastic fork and using it to cut her danish. "The fandom is still freaking out over you being here." Piece of food on the utensil, she placed it in her mouth and chewed.

He rolled his eyes as he cut open his bagel and smeared cream cheese on it, knowing that the fans reaction to his presence in San Diego with James wouldn't have changed overnight, but still thinking it was dumb.

She swallowed, licking her lips. "Yeah, there's still the huge debate over whether or not something's going on between you guys, but those girls you met last night tried to put the record straight and it seemed to do a lot for your cover."

The blond's brow furrowed in confusion as he chewed a mouthful of bagel, wondering what girls she was referring to, soon remembering the two blonds and the redhead he'd spoken to outside the venue after the show.

"One of 'em put a post up saying they'd spoken to you and you said you were in town visiting a _friend_ and that they believed you." She paused to sip her drink. "Oh, they also said that you were really nice and polite. And nice pics by the way." She smirked at the last part.

He rolled his eyes again as he swallowed. "I honestly thought they'd never let me leave. They kept asking me shit, including what kinda kisser James was."

Camille's eyebrows shot up at that, seeming impressed by the boldness the trio had displayed. "And?"

"And what?"

"And what kinda kisser is he?"

Kendall cocked an eyebrow, giving her a "get fucking real" look. "I'm not answering that."

She chuckled, tilting her head down to her danish, watching her actions as she cut a piece off. "So, what exactly _is_ going on there? I mean, clearly you guys are having sex now. Are you just fuck buddies?"

He let out a sigh as he slumped back in his chair, sipping his drink as he thought it over, coming up with a whole lotta nothing. "I still have no idea," he answered honestly.

"You guys didn't talk about it?" she questioned, putting food in her mouth.

"Nope." He popped the 'P' as he placed his drink back on the table, staring at his bagel. "We, uh, were otherwise occupied."

She finished chewing and swallowed before speaking. "What about after? Didn't you have time to talk between rounds?"

He shook his head, thinking back to what they spoke about after each fuck. "The only things we talked about were how he had Logan get _supplies_—" he put emphasis on the word, knowing she'd pick up on the insinuation. "—and how neither of us is a cuddler."

Her brow furrowed at that as she picked up her cup. "No post-sex cuddles?"

"No, we still cuddled."

"Aww."

"Stop aww-ing," he requested, pointing a finger at her. "And before you do it, no fuckin' squealing either."

She rolled her eyes, smirk on her face that showed she meant no harm and that she didn't take his gruff tone in offense. "Okay, so if you guys are actually cuddling, despite not being cuddlers, that _has_ to be a sign that something serious is going on, right? So what else happened?"

Kendall deliberately took a bite of his second bagel half, using it as an excuse, giving himself time to think. He knew he had to just get it all over with, just tell her everything. He just didn't know if he actually _wanted_ to. But he wanted clarity, wanted help, more than he didn't want to talk and open up. So with a mental kick in the ass, he forced himself to speak.

"Well," he started then paused, still not sure where to start, taking a long sip of his mocha to buy himself some more time. "We rode together to the radio station yesterday morning, right? And he seemed freaked out that I held his hand in the limo, even though it was just us, Logan, and Freight Train. And on the ride back, he put his head on my shoulder 'cause he was tired, only to immediately sit back up. So I put my head on _his_ shoulder and he got all tense and shit."

Camille nodded, chewing, swallowing before she spoke. "So he's not into PDA."

"I don't even know if that _counts_ as PDA," he countered. "Like I said, we were in a limo with two people he clearly trusts with his life. You'd think outta everyone on the planet, he'd be okay with someone holding his hand in front of those two, ya know?"

"I guess," she conceded, small pout as she tilted her head from side to side. "But still. If he's as closed off as you seem to believe he is, issues with physical affection would be part of that."

Kendall's face scrunched up, not entirely believing it. "But the thing is," he started, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. "He has _zero_ issues in the bedroom. Like, the two of us can't be left alone or we're in each others pants in a heartbeat. He jumped me on two different occasions literally as soon as the door shut."

Her eyebrows went up, painted lips parting, like she was impressed and enjoying the mental image she had from those words. The blond's eyes narrowed, not entirely sure if he liked the thought of his friend thinking about his—well, his _guy_, he guessed, in that way. But he had no choice. People were gonna think about what they thought about. And really, he was gonna have to just suck it up and deal with it, because "his guy" just happened to be in the public eye and had millions of girls—and some guys—fantasizing like that on an hourly basis.

"Okay, so," she started then stopped, clearing her throat as she sat up, taking a drink to help. "He doesn't like being affectionate around other people, but when you're alone, it's on like Donkey Kong."

He nodded. "Pretty much."

"And I'm assuming he still hasn't opened up about anything, including how he feels about you."

More nodding, his head tilting down, hands picking apart the remaining part of his bagel. "But he's kinda given me clues, ya know?" he stated, putting a ripped bit of his breakfast in his mouth.

Camille was fully intrigued, forearms folded on the table, empty plate shoved away from her. "Like what?"

"Like he told me that I was the first for a lotta things—although I have no fucking clue what things," he clarified. "But I'm pretty sure one of those things was having a fan fly out for the weekend in order to be together. In whatever way we're being together."

She nodded, lips in a pout, her thinking face as he'd come to know it. "So clearly he likes you, enough to track down your number, call you, and fly you out, I'm assuming, at his expense. These are clearly huge signs that he feels something for you that he hasn't felt for another fan."

Kendall placed another piece in his mouth, remembering how James had said something to the same effect in the dressing room, that he was the only one he'd brought onstage that he'd felt something for. "And then there's his lock screen on his iPhone—" he started.

She perked up again, leaning forward over the table. "Is it a pic of you onstage with him? I swear to god I will _die_ if it is."

He cocked an eyebrow at her overreaction, rolling his eyes before he responded. "No. Remember when I told you about my meet-n-greet experience, how we posed for one pic then he insisted on another 'cause his eyes were closed?"

"Uh huh."

"His eyes weren't closed. He was staring at me."

She gasped. "No. Way."

He nodded as he ate his final piece of bagel, putting his plate on top of Camille's empty one. "Yeah. Like, full on, this cu—nice lil smi—"

"You mean cute?"

"No."

"You were about to—"

"No. Now shut up and lemme finish."

She rolled her eyes, hands lifted in a surrender before they slapped back onto her bare forearms. "All right. Please, continue."

"Thanks," he said with a gruff tone. "Anyway, the way he was looking at me in that pic, it was like _I_ was the celeb, ya know? Like _I_ was the famous one giving a fan my attention and he was totally starstruck by _me_."

"I told you the same thing," she reminded him, motioning with an open hand towards him. "Remember when we were talking before your second show about how I thought James might be at least bi because of how he was looking at you? Only I didn't know it was _you_, but you know what I mean?" She paused and he nodded, showing he recalled the moment. "That's what it looked like to me, like he was just—" She shook her head as she tried to come up with the right word. "Like he was _awed_ by you. And clearly that feeling didn't go away between gigs and it obviously still hasn't gone away and that's why he flew you out here to spend time with you."

Kendall felt his face fall as he slumped back in his seat, hips shifting as he struggled to relieve the pressure on his ass. He should've been stoked to hear that, to be told that the singer clearly had feelings for him that went beyond celeb/fan, to be told it was obvious to other people. And he was. It assured him that he wasn't nuts, that he wasn't delusional and just imagining shit as he so often worried he did. But there was still one thing nagging at him.

"But why can't he tell me this shit?" He muttered, finger swirling in the condensation forming outside his clear plastic cup.

"Have _you_ told _him_?" she countered, eyebrow raised.

'_Not the point._'

He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, his right wrapping around his cup. "Kinda," he reluctantly admitted, refusing to say "no", too stubborn and prideful. Plus, technically, "no" was wrong. "He was acting weird when I told him I had to come here to—"

"Weird how?" she interrupted, head slightly turned to the side, eyes narrowed in question.

"Like," he started then stopped, sighing, putting his left hand around his cup above his right. "I was tryna get outta bed, but he was tryna stop me, held me in place." Fucking. Hell. Squealing in person—and in a public place—was ten times worse than over a webcam. "I told him I had to go to come here and he stiffened, then that fuckin' emotionless mask he always wears when shit gets too real came back. And then yesterday when I asked if it was cool I come here, he got all pissy and jealous."

"Innnnteresting." She stretched the word out as she gave a long, slow nod. "So he has issues with showing affection around other people, yet doesn't wanna share you?"

"Seems it," he replied with a shrug. "Anyway, before I left I told him there was _only_ him and he just. Looked away, like he couldn't handle it."

"Maybe he couldn't," Camille pointed out the obvious, grabbing her paper cup. "Maybe he has issues dealing with emotions or feelings so he has trouble saying things out loud. Or even showing them, hence why he got tense at hand holding and being used as a pillow."

It was such a "duh" thing that Kendall actually felt kinda dumb for not realizing it. He should've seen it sooner, should've understood, should've—well, should've done a lotta shit. But sometimes your head gets so full of other shit that you can't see what's punching you right in the face until someone points it out.

"Look, my advice," she started after drinking, leaning forward once more as she placed her cup on the table, head tilted to the side in a friendly way. "Tell him about you first. Open up about all your own issues and whatever bullshit is holding you back. Chances are it'll urge him to come forward with his own. He'll feel more at ease knowing he's not the only one dealing with a lot of shit, not the only one with huge issues. And who knows? Maybe the two of you can help each other deal with it all and move on and become normal human beings."

Okay, she had him until the "normal human beings" bit.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, causing her to giggle. He snorted, shaking his head as he turned it to the right, looking out the window as he hid the smirk that was threatening to break out. The cement sidewalk was a darker gray, a light mist falling down, and he knew it wouldn't be long until the rain grew heavier, judging by the clouds in the sky. Whatever. He was gonna be there for an hour anyway, had already decided he was gonna use all sixty minutes, despite—or possibly _to spite_—any pop star's objections and discomfort with it.

That thought in mind, he turned back to Camille, picking up his drink. "Enough of my bitching, what's up with you? How'd your play go?"

She laughed, amused smile on her face, then launched into a tale over her latest onstage performance. The conversation soon turned to her telling him of her post-high school plans of going to a performing arts school up in San Francisco to better her talent before hopefully moving to LA to become a movie star. Kendall's contribution mainly consisted of an admittance over having no clue what he wanted to do with his life, she reassuring him that he'll figure it out. He didn't believe her, but didn't feel like starting an argument over something as stupid as that, so he just shrugged, letting her know he would be lucky to even graduate. That earned him a mom-type disapproving look, but he changed the subject before she could launch into any speech.

The conversation seemed to flow, no awkward pauses or breaks, nothing but talking, laughing, and cracking jokes at each others expense. And all too soon, it was time to leave, that whole "time flies when you're having fun" bullshit actually coming true. When Kendall pointed out that he needed to get going, Camille just smirked, brown eyes sparkling.

"Gotta get back to your man, huh?" she teased, lightly kicking him under the table.

He scrunched up his face at her, feigning offense, trying to hide his own grin at the phrase. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered as he stood, hitching his pants up at his hips.

"You need a ride back to the hotel? I drove here."

An eyebrow raised on its own as he watched her rise to her feet and gather her things. "What? And you couldn't pick me up from the hotel?"

She just smirked. "Nah. Figured it'd be safer to meet you here in case you were a freak murderer or something."

His own grin took on a dark eyes, stepping towards her. "Who says I'm not?"

Camille just laughed, shoving at his chest as she rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Besides, I doubt you have time to kill me and-or hide the body, considering the fact that you're more than likely anxious as hell to get back to James."

He didn't say anything, just shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, not wanting to admit she was right. He was _dying_ to get back to the other male, _dying_ to see him again with his own eyes, hold him, kiss him, maybe even get back in bed and fuck or be fucked. But at the same time, he knew returning would probably mean returning to a moody pop star who apparently had an issue with sharing the blond, not to mention an impending conversation about what the fuck was happening between the two of them, one he wasn't looking forward to but knew needed to happen before his trip was over.

"Let's go, Lover Boy," the petite female jested, walking around him on her way to the door.

Kendall turned, calling out her name, watching her pause by the glass entryway, question on her face as she looked at him. Without another word, he stepped over, taking hold of the small arm that was holding the handle and using it to pull her to him, hugging her tight. She returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his waist, head on his chest, a smile on her face as she breathed out a small laugh against his tee.

"Thanks," he told her, genuinely meaning it as he held her.

She rubbed his back, pulling her head away to look up at him. "You can thank me by finding your balls and talking to James so I can gush all over Tumblr about what a cute couple you are," she beamed, painted lips pulled into a closed grin.

"Oh, well, if I'm doing this for _you_—" he stated sarcastically, trailing off and ending it with an eye roll.

Camille just giggled, pulling away from him and heading towards the door. "By the way," she started, gripping the handle as she turned her head to him, that smirk still plastered on her face. "Told you I'd getcha to hug me." With that, she turned back and strutted her way out the coffee shop, nose in the air, an aura of smugness about her.

If Kendall didn't love her so much, he'd punch her.


	31. New Story Same Ending

_**A/N: **__Um, wasn't actually gonna post this for a while... won't get into it or risk entering #WhinyAuthorMode again but... it's a special occasion so I'm posting it, solely 'cause IT'S LINDA'S BIRTHDAY! Yay! :D Happy birthday for the millionth time, hun! Love ya oodles! XOXOX_

_Next up... um... I LOATHE the f-word. Clearly not referring to "fuck" since that's my favorite word ever, but the other f-word. However... it's unfortunately necessary here. And the warnings do say "homophobic slurs" so...but that being said, I still hate it and I didn't want anyone getting their panties in a twist over me using it. Trust me, I didn't want to, but it was in my head and keeping up with tradition of just typing whatever is said to me, I had to put it in here. Sorry._

_Kendall needs to stop tweeting while I'm writing about him having sex with his bandmates though. It's just getting weird._

_Sorry. Off-topic._

_Anyway, enjoy this update. Happy birthday Linda again! I'm off to continue working on this oneshot about drunken superheroes and avoid writing about a couple of them getting donuts and discussing sex...BUT OMFG NEW WINTER SOLDIER PICS I'M GONNA PASS OUT!_

* * *

It'd started raining sometime while Kendall and Camille were eating. Not a huge downpour, but enough for you to actually feel drops hitting you. And apparently enough for Southern Californians to forget how to fucking drive, considering how fucking slow everyone was going. It was a fucking sprinkle, not a goddamn flash flood.

Apparently his rants over shitty driving in barely shitty weather was amusing to his female friend, who laughed as she steered her convertible—gift from her rich dad back in Connecticut who made up for his lack of presence by _giving_ presents—down the road on the way back to the hotel Kendall was staying at. The two started a convo about absentee fathers, she mentioning her how her remarried mom hated her ex-husband trying to buy the love of their only child with materialistic objects that her hippie nature rebelled against. He countered with a comment over how she should just be glad that her pops even remembers she's alive and makes any sorta effort, no matter how superficial or costly.

"So you never hear from your dad?"

"Nope." His gaze was fixed out the window, elbow on the door, thumb rubbing his forehead. "Only word we got from him was when he sent papers turning over his parental rights and pretty much stating he'd never have anything to do with me."

"Wow. Pretty fucked up."

He shrugged, playing it off. A lotta shit was fucked up about that whole situation but he wasn't getting into it with her. He was barely able to think about how he was gonna confess this shit to James.

Then again, knowing the two of them, chances were he'd be pounced upon as soon as he entered the room, shoved against a wall with the singer's tongue in his mouth and a hand down his pants. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Okay, there was 'cause it meant there was no talking and nothing was resolved, hence the fact that they were _still_ in a sort of relationship limbo, not knowing what was going on exactly. Or at least Kendall didn't know. He had no clue about James. Which proved they needed to talk.

And while he was desperate for answers and clarification about what the fuck was going on, part of him was kinda hoping for the whole being pounced and unable to talk scenario. For starters, he'd be getting laid—never a bad thing—and on top of that, he'd be able to keep shit to himself. Telling about his past was never appealing, especially when he had to tell it to the person he was into. But he knew it had to be done. If he was gonna get anything outta James, then he had to let some shit out himself. Quid pro quo, give and take, shit like that.

And didn't that just suck big, fat, hairy ones?

He shoved everything aside, focusing on the conversation at hand, rather than any possible future ones, listening to her tell about how her parents argued, corporate lawyer versus environmental one, that it wasn't as great as sitcoms make it out to be.

"Opposites _don't_ attract," she stated sternly. "That shit only goes for magnets and we are not magnets."

Kendall nodded, figuring it was true. After all, he was attracted to the same sex, not the opposite one. Plus he and James both seemed to be matching fucked up mental cases with some sorta parental issue—if the singer's comment about the teen having a mom who actually wanted to talk to him was any sorta clue—and the two of them had felt drawn to each other. But who the fuck knew really. Maybe sometimes opposite personalities _did_ work, since no two people in the world we exactly alike. But there had to be some sorta common link, a bond, an area where they were on equal ground, otherwise shit wouldn't work, wouldn't blend, oil and water, that sorta shit.

Whatever. None of it mattered. Chances were he and James weren't gonna work, given their totally different lifestyles and their inabilities to open up and allow themselves to get closer to the other person. He needed to just enjoy the rest of his weekend and the little amount of time he had left with the other male.

Camille pulled up along the sidewalk outside the hotel, putting the car in park before turning to Kendall and giving him yet another reminder to stop being a pussy and talk to James. "Not just for me," she stated, "Or for him or for you, but for _both_ of you. Your relationship would be much healthier if you both knew where you stood and what kind of relationship it even is."

Kendall didn't say a word, just gave a noncommittal nod, still not sure what exactly he was gonna do, but not wanting to lie or break a promise to her. Which was fucking weird. He lied to pretty much _everyone_, including Carlos, his mom, Katie on occasion. And technically, he was kinda lying to James by keeping shit about his past hidden, by saying he was fine when he wasn't. Hell, he was even lying to himself by allowing his mind to think things would work between them and that they'd have a healthy, normal romantic relationship.

But at that moment, he didn't wanna tell Camille he'd talk to James and then puss out, not do it. He wasn't sure if it was because he was changing or if it was just because it was her; he just knew being dishonest with her—any more than he had been in the past anyway—didn't sit well with him.

No desire to discuss it further, he thanked her for the ride and suggesting they meet up. A bright smile formed on her face, painted lips stretching to reveal white teeth.

"Best idea I've had in a while," she stated honestly, before shrugging. "Well, that and you should talk to James." He rolled his eyes, hearing her giggle. "But hopefully you can come out here for a visit again, stay with me for a few days."

The grin that formed on his face was genuine, real, bright eyes taking in her porcelain features. "I'd like that."

The two exchanged goodbyes, Camille forcing Kendall to promise to call Monday and give her a rundown for the rest of the weekend. He gave her a "yeah, yeah" and a wave as he got out the car, stepping out into the drizzle. He tilted his head down as he walked, warm drops hitting the back of his neck, dampening his cotton covered shoulders, but he ignored it, focusing on making his way into the hotel.

His boots squeaked on the fancy floor, earning him a dirty look from the concierge behind the welcoming desk, but he paid her no attention, heading straight for the elevator. He had to wait, hands shoved in his pockets, iPhone pressed against his skin, and he pulled it out to find a text from his mom asking if he was coming home any time soon. He ignored it, deciding that was a convo to put off til later. If he was actually gonna discuss this shit with James like he was trying to psych himself up to do, then there was no way he could also deal with any maternal freak outs over where he was and why. Plus he still hadn't thought up a lie and the truth kinda seemed too surreal to explain to her, which would make him seem like he was lying to her anyway. Christ, being dishonest just seemed like the best choice really.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open, and he got in, pressing the correct button for his floor. No one else boarded and the cart started its ascent, Kendall's mind racing. Did he really wanna put this shit out there, really wanna tell everything, about how he'd driven his dad off, how it was his fault his family had fallen apart? Did he really wanna explain to the man he was falling for about what it had done to him, about how he'd screwed up everything—including his own life—about how he was a selfish asshole who only seemed to care about himself, about getting drunk or high, about partying his ass off? Did he really wanna let any of those skeletons out? Lucy didn't know any of that shit, neither did Guitar Dude or any of the other people he'd been hanging out with the past couple years. Carlos knew because he was there and Kendall knew that no matter what, the Latino wasn't going anywhere. But James? James could totally be disgusted and turned off by it all, could easily tell him to pack his shit and head to the airport, that a ticket home would be waiting for him there.

A ding broke into his thoughts, the rumble of doors opening, and he stepped off the elevator. He dug the heel of his hand into the middle of his chest, his heart hurting, worry overtaking every other emotion inside his head. He couldn't handle being left again, especially not if it was James who was the one he was forced to part ways with. That would be the biggest blow ever, one he'd never recover from.

He turned down the hall, only to come across one of the last people he wanted to see.

"What the hell did you do to my friend?!" Okay, apparently Logan had gotten yet another stick lodged up his ass in the hour Kendall had been out.

The blond stopped walking when he reached the brunet, cocking an eyebrow at the angry glare being aimed at him. "What are you talking about?" he questioned, dropping his hand and using it to hitch up his jeans.

"James," the assistant stated, like the teen wouldn't know what friend he was referring to. "What did you do to him?"

The confusion stayed on the taller male's face, both eyebrows raised, mouth twisted. "I have no idea what you're talking about, considering the fact that I've been gone for an hour."

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say, since the brunet's body language became even more defensive. Logan folded his arms over his chest, jaw tense, hip sticking out, and if he were a couple inches taller, it might have been slightly intimidating, given the fire in his brown eyes. "Yeah, and in that hour, you somehow managed to break him. What the hell is going on between you two?"

Kendall mimicked the other male's body positioning, arms crossed over his own chest. But not the hip thing. That was a little too much for him. "That's between me and him so mind your own fucking business."

An eyeroll was the assistant's first response."Whatever. Just fix him," was the second.

The blond's usual habit of rebelling kicked in, eyes narrowing in a glare, hard eyes locked onto the smaller male. "Fuck you," he spat out. "Don't tell me what to do."

The elder male just stared back, eyes just as hard, stare just as fierce. Yet there was something analytical in those brown orbs, like he was searching the taller male for something, some sorta clue, trying to solve some sorta puzzle. "I still have no idea what the hell he sees in you."

'_That makes two of us,_' his mind spoke up, breaking down his defensiveness, his rebellion. Dropping his arms, he gripped the back of his neck, digging his fingers in as he let out a sigh. "Look," he started, calmer, voice without that angry edge it had moments ago. "I'll talk to James, see what's going on."

"Thanks." Logan's voice was softer, too, quieter, and he looked up and down the hall before continuing. "I'm just worried. He's not himself. Hasn't been for a while."

Kendall's own concern ratcheted up, brow drawn once again. "Hasn't been himself how?"

The assistant shrugged and shook his head, hands out to the side. "I can't explain it." He dropped his arms, hands slapping against his thighs, then spoke more. "I mean, sometimes him being different is a good thing. But right now?" He trailed off, another shake of the head and shrug of the shoulders.

The blond nodded, it seeming like the only response he could give. He didn't know James all that well, didn't know exactly who the singer was and what counted as him acting like himself. But if it was enough to have his lifelong best friend worried, then it clearly was cause for concern. "I'll talk to him," he repeated, clearing a raspiness from his voice, watching the brunet nod in return. Without another word, he walked around the other male and headed to his hotel room.

Using the keycard he'd been given earlier, he unlocked the door and headed inside, finding the main part of the suite empty. "James?" he called out as the door closed and locked behind him, stepping further into the living room.

"In here!"

Kendall's head turned to the left, seeing the bedroom door partially open, and he followed the other male's muffled voice inside.

James was sitting on the edge of the bed, gray pair of sweats covering long legs, black wifebeater clinging to his torso, bandanas around both wrists, thin sheen of sweat over his skin. But the blond couldn't appreciate the view—as boner inducing as it was—he was more focused on the body language the other male was sporting, the way he was gripping the edge of the mattress, the way his head was hanging, the way he wasn't looking at the younger male.

"How'd it go with your friend?" His voice was flat, not betraying any emotion. He didn't seem interested to actually hear the answer, didn't seem jealous the blond had gone out, didn't seem excited the teen was back. Definitely not the greeting Kendall had imagined coming back to.

The younger male cleared his throat, staying near the door, not sure what to do, where to go. Instead, he just shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, shrugging even though he was pretty sure the action wasn't seen. "Good."

"What'd you guys do?" The brunet hadn't moved either, hadn't changed his tone, just stared at the carpet between his sneaker clad feet.

"Talked."

"About?"

"Stuff." Because no way in hell was he telling the pop star that they sat and talked about him and how the teen needed to relocate his balls so the two of them could have a proper discussion about what the fuck was going on between them.

James just nodded, head still tilted down, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. "And it's a _girl_ friend, right?"

Kendall's brow furrowed, confusion setting in, knowing they'd already been over this and not seeing the need to go over it again. "Yeah. Why?"

The singer didn't reply, not out loud anyway. He just shrugged, staring unseeing at the floor, face sporting that fucking mask the teen loathed.

"I'm gay," the blond pointed out, leaning over to try and get a better look at the other male's face, to see if there was any sorta twitch of a response, any sorta emotion in his eyes that could clue the younger male in to what was the fucking deal. "_Fully_ gay. No questioning, no possibly, no 'I _mostly_ like dudes, but I'm _also_ kinda into chicks'. Gay."

"Okay." Which, given the tone and the lack of physical movement, was pretty much the same as not saying a word.

"I just felt like it should be said out loud since I haven't actually flat out said it."

"Okay."

A small disbelieving laugh left Kendall, arms folding over his chest, hip sticking out. This was some bullshit, that was for damn sure, and he sure as fuck didn't fly all the way out here to be ignored or given non-responses or stare at a blank face. He wasn't gonna stand for anyone's shit, especially not some pop star pulling a near silent treatment. He'd psyched himself up for a serious talk and fuck-dammit, they were gonna fucking have one!

"What the fuck is your deal?" he questioned. "I came back expecting to be slammed against a wall with a tongue down my throat, your usual greeting, but instead, I'm more or less ignored and getting pretty much zero response to anything I say. What the fuck?!" He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis during the last sentence, letting them drop so his hands slapped on his thighs, before refolding his arms once more.

James still didn't speak, still didn't move. His shoulders were rising and falling with each breath, a sign he was alive, so he obviously hadn't suddenly died or magically become frozen or some shit. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, before his teeth sank into his bottom one. Leaning forward, he kept his eyes on the ground as he rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as they hung there. "Maybe you were right."

Right. Still not the response he was expecting—if he was even expecting anything at all. But a total change of subject definitely wasn't what he thought would happen. Clearly he needed to stop trying to predict shit 'cause he kept being wrong every time. "Wha—" He shook his head, hoping to clear away the confusion. Didn't work. "Right about what?"

"It not working out between us," the singer explained, lifting his head and staring straight ahead at the wall. "We spent all this time together and neither one of us has opened up."

Cold dread washed over Kendall, tickling the back of his neck. He reached up, rubbing the skin there, hoping to wipe it away. "What are you saying?"

The brunet bit his lip, head hanging, eyes locked on the floor like a script was down there, telling him his next line. "I'm saying that maybe we should just—" He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging, allowing the blond to fill it in.

Something sharp stabbed at his heart, his stomach plummeting, nausea washing over him as his arms dropped to his sides. His chest grew tight, lungs struggling to breathe normally, each inhale shaky and shallow. His skin was tingling in a bad way, dread, anticipation of something really bad about to happen causing him to internally freak out as he realized what was going on.

"You. You're leaving me."

The elder male's head raised again but he still didn't look at the younger. "Technically _you'll_ be leaving _me_ to go home."

"No," the blond argued, head shaking rapidly. "No, _you're_ leaving _me_." His voice dropped as he continued, rambling more to himself than actually speaking to the other male. "It always fucking happens. Everyone always fucking leaves."

The brunet finally turned to him, finally looked at him, but it was too late. The teen was unseeing, unthinking, un_everything_ at that point. He could barely see the other male turn his body, leg flat on the bed. He could barely see dark brows furrowed in confusion. He could barely see the lips he'd been kissing forming words as a distant voice spoke.

"What are you ta—?"

"My birth dad left cause he didn't wanna be stuck with a kid," Kendall interrupted, not caring, fingers digging into the back of his neck. He wasn't even aware that he was speaking, words tumbling out his mouth like a waterfall, the dam burst and unable to be repaired. "My step-dad left 'cause he didn't want a fag for a son. My first boyfriend left 'cause all he wanted was a fuck. And now you!" He motioned to the male in the room with his right hand, fingers no longer gripping his neck. "You're leaving me, too!" He dropped his hand with a resounding slap to his leg, shaking his head in disbelief, struggling to wrap his head around the fact that it was happening again.

"Ken—"

"Save it." More interrupting, more not giving a fuck about it. "You don't think it's gonna work so fuck it." Jaw tense and body hard, he took a couple steps over and snatched his shirt off the floor where it had been discarded the night before. He felt eyes on him, felt like he was being watched, but he'd long since run out of fucks to give about anything anymore. Anger fueling his motions, he stomped over to where his jeans were by the bed.

"So you're doing it?" James questioned, turning to face forward, eyes still on the blond. "You're actually leaving?"

"Thought that's what you wanted," the teen replied, bending down and grabbing his pants. "For me to leave physically so you can leave metaphorically." He straightened up, looking at the still seated male, eyes hard but questioning. "Right?"

The brunet held the eye contact for about three seconds before turning his head away and staring out in front of him.

The blond scoffed, shaking his head. "That's what I thought." With that, he turned and headed to his duffel, shoving his clothes in before grabbing the handles and leaving the room.

He didn't remember the trip downstairs, didn't remember how he got outside the hotel. His brain had shut down, only able to focus on one thought. James had left him.

And, okay, in all technicality, Kendall was the one who was leaving, but like he'd pointed out, the brunet was the one who left the relationship—if that's what they were in—not him. But no matter the details or the specifics of the whole situation, one thing was for sure. He'd been right. James was gonna leave, just like everyone else.

He adjusted his duffel on his shoulder, the rain pouring down harder than it had been, large drops falling at a rapid rate, soaking his skin, his clothes, everything. But he didn't feel anything. Not physically anyway. His entire body had gone numb and he wasn't entirely sure if anything was working inside of him anymore. His heart was shattered, dust in his aching chest, a hollowness inside that he hadn't felt in years. He felt dead, more than just the emotionless zombie he had been not too long ago. Just. Dead.

He sniffed, the sound swallowed by the rain pounding the pavement, his runny nose and blurry eyes the only way he knew he was crying. He couldn't actually feel it, and not just because the water falling from the sky was making his face wet. He just... couldn't feel.

Swallowing, he looked down the road to the right, then the left, staring at the empty drop-off zone, the lot that contained parked cars. He should call a cab, go to the airport, see if he could trade his ticket in for an earlier flight. If not, maybe he could stay with Camille. He was sure she'd be there for him, let him crash on the couch or some shit.

Another sniff and he adjusted his duffel strap, fingers wrapped around it and he kept his hand by his shoulder. He knew what he should do, knew he should just start walking, or at least take his phone out his pocket, but he couldn't seem to move anywhere.

Then again, dead things don't move.

Figuring he needed to actually _do_ something, other than standing in a heavy downpour like an idiot, he stepped off the sidewalk and onto the road used for cars to drop people off or pick them up outside the front entrance of the hotel. He couldn't hear his footsteps, couldn't feel his feet make contact with the tarred ground. He damn sure couldn't feel his lungs move or his heart beat, mostly because he was sure they weren't working anymore. Shit, he just wanted to go home. He wanted his own bed in his own room. He wanted to bury himself under the covers for fifty years and only emerge when he was too old to fall in love. He wanted... fuck, he wanted his fucking _mom_.

The sound of his name being called hit his ears as he reached the grassy median that separated the road from the main part of the lot. He stopped, turning, seeing a familiar figure leave the hotel, running over.

James was drenched by the time he reached Kendall, brown hair sticking to his forehead, black tank a second skin as it suctioned itself to the contours of his torso. He was panting as he stood there, presumably because he'd ran after the blond, most likely took the stairs rather than waiting on an elevator. But the teen barely noticed any of those things. It was the look in the pop star's eyes as he stared at him, the mix of fear, panic, loss, guilt, a million things and more. And it was all directed at Kendall.

The smaller male never got a chance to ask anything, to even have any questions form in his head. The larger cupped his face, crashing their lips together in a kiss that spoke of desperation and a fear of loss. It was hard, passionate, needy, but not in a sexual way like all the others, but wordlessly telling of how much the brunet just needed the blond himself.

They parted when they needed air, James keeping their eyes locked together as they both breathed heavily. "I'm not your dads."

Kendall's head was spinning, a mix of confusion and a mind-blowing kiss from a male he thought he'd never see again—other than on the internet when another masochistic moment hit him and he looked the singer up, as he was apt to do. Brow furrowed, he stared at the pop star, wondering what the hell he was talking about, why he was there, what the fuck was going on now. "Huh?"

"I'm not your dads," the brunet repeated, hands still cupping the younger male's face, still holding him. "I'm not leaving, okay?" He looked back and forth between both green eyes, hands moving to slim hips, pulling the smaller male closer as he licked his lips. "I know I'm difficult to deal with and I don't open up or talk about shit but—" He trailed off, shaking his head slowly as he seemed to struggle to figure out where exactly he'd been going with that statement. "Fuck, I can't lose you. I care about you too much."

The blond swallowed hard, feeling his heart start back up again, hope causing his lungs to inflate and his stomach to flutter. "Really?" His voice was weak, not wanting to believe it too much for fear of having it all taken away once again.

A small smile played on the singer's lips, the corner of them turning up. "I chased you down, didn't I? And I'm standing outside in the pouring down rain _begging _you not to go."

"Ja—"

The elder male interrupted, much like how the younger had multiple times back in the room. "I know I don't—I _can't_ talk about emotions but. There's something about you that pulls me in and makes me actually _feel_ shit and I don't wanna lose that. Or lose you."

It's on the tip of Kendall's tongue and it would've been so easy, so perfect to just let those three little words roll off.

But instead, he wrapped his hands around James' neck and pulled the elder male's head closer, kissing the feeling.

* * *

The twosome headed back inside the hotel, ignoring the looks they were getting as they dripped everywhere. They pretended not to notice the stares, the silent questions, the probable thoughts about how that blond guy had just stormed out with every intention of leaving for good, only to return with the dark haired guy he was clearly bailing on.

Whatever. None of their fucking business really.

They made it back to the room, James patting the pockets of his damp sweat pants, muttering something about a "fuckin' key." Kendall reached into his jeans pocket, pulling out the keycard he hadn't even thought to leave behind, feeling glad for his sometime forgetfulness.

Door unlocked, they both entered the suite, the blond first, heading straight to the bedroom. He dumped his duffel unceremoniously where it had been previously, before walking over to the bed. Without hesitation, he flopped onto his back across it, letting out a huff as he landed. The brunet soon joined him, laying on the teen's right, both staring silently up at the ceiling. Reaching over blindly, the younger male took hold of the elder's hand, fingers tightening when he felt the singer start to pull away.

"Don't." His voice was weak, broken, just like how he felt. His eyes drifted closed, unable to look, to see the other male pull away, whether physically or emotionally.

James stilled for a second, before using their clasped hands to pull Kendall closer, making him roll onto his side and against the larger male's frame. Their hands released their grip as the blond laid his head on the brunet's chest, both with their arms around the other.

"I was a mistake," he confessed lowly, feeling the elder male inhale sharply and freeze, tensing up. "My parents, I mean," he clarified and the other male relaxed. "A broken condom and no birth control. My mom likes to say I was a surprise but I know better. Pregnant at eighteen is a mistake."

He snuggled more into the other male, fingers playing with the wide strap of his black tank, eyes focused on a broad chest. "My birth dad originally tried to do the right thing, get a job, provide for his family, all that shit, ya know? But a couple months after I was born, he decided he didn't wanna do it and just left."

"So you and Katie are half-siblings?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Never felt like that though. My mom got married when I was a toddler, so I don't remember my real dad. My step-dad seemed like my father in my eyes. At least he _did_." He gritted out the last sentence, eyes hard, glaring at nothing.

A large hand rubbed up and down his spine, soothing, calming. James kept his voice low, cautious, much like Kendall did when trying to get answers but not wanting to scare the other male off. "What happened there?"

"I did _everything_ for that asshole," the teen stated, his own tone harsh, latent anger making itself known. "I got interested in all the shit he liked, joined hockey 'cause he coached it and it would be a bonding thing for us. I tried everything I could to try and make him love me, but it was never enough."

That old familiar hurt came back, an ache in his chest that never fully went away, but could be covered with other shit, whether it be alcohol or the hurt caused by someone else.

"It wasn't that he was uncaring," he clarified, continuing his story, the words just flowing. "Cause he fucking adored Katie. Not that I can blame him for that really."

James let out a small laugh, jostling the blond slightly. "Yeah, she's something all right."

"Not just that," the blond argued, shuffling slightly, slinging a leg over the other male's. "But she was _his_ kid. _Is_ his kid. I'm the bastard child of some other asshole that he was forced to deal with in order to be with my mom. I kinda always had a feeling he never liked me, much less loved me." His voice was small on the last sentence, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

The singer wrapped his arms around the teen more, holding him closer. "You said he left because he didn't want a fag for a son?"

The blond nodded, sniffing, remembering that conversation perfectly, even three years later. "His exact words when I told him and my mom that I might be questioning my sexuality and wasn't sure I was into girls. Mom said she didn't want a bigoted asshole for a husband and it just led to this huge fight." He paused, recalling the pain he felt, the rejection, the hollow ache as the man he admired told him he was a piece of shit, unworthy of being able to call himself that man's son. He remembered the screams coming up the stairs and into his room as he lay in bed, crying as he tried to fall asleep. He remembered the angry statements of how his step-dad never actually loved him, never really wanted him around, that he was tolerated for his mom's sake but him being gay was the last straw. He wouldn't put up with a pansy for a kid and she needed to fix that shit right then and there.

And Kendall told James all of it.

"He left that night, got his shit the next day when me and Katie were at school," he concluded, sniffing, eyes blurry once more. Tears were falling down his face, onto a still damp tank, and he refused to wipe them away because it would mean he'd have to acknowledge that they were there, that they were happening, that he was still affected by it. "Only word we ever really get from him is some generic birthday card Katie gets with a fifty inside."

"Shit." The swear was muttered from beneath him, that hand rubbing his back again, lips pressed against his beanie covered head. "Sorry you had dicks for dads."

The teen just shrugged, not knowing what else to do or say. "Doesn't matter," he said with the hope that he could not only make the singer believe it, but himself, too. Because even after all that time, part of him was still truly upset that the man he looked up to, the man who he modeled himself after-or _had_ anyway-the man he'd wanted to please and make proud and gain his affection, that man hated him all because of who he was attracted to.

"But it does," the elder male argued, moving his head to look at the younger male. "No one should hear that from a parent."

"Happens all the time," the teen pointing out, still trying to play the whole thing off and act like it was nothing, not wanting the hurt to show anymore than it already was, not wanting anyone-including the pop star-to know he was still affected. He had a reputation, one he'd built without even realizing it, as a hardass, as someone who just didn't give a shit. And while his mom, Katie, and Carlos knew different, the rest of the world had that idea that he truly didn't give a fuck. A part of him didn't wanna change that. Because if you acted like you didn't give a shit, then eventually it would become true and no one could hurt you, no one would even try.

Until James came along.

Not that he thought the brunet did it on purpose, but still. The blond had shown that he cared and had been hung up on, left alone in a dressing room, ignored for a few days only to be called back. He showed he wanted some sort of connection, an openness between them, that he cared and wanted to get closer, only to have the singer pull away metaphorically and then pretty much tell him to go home.

But the elder male chased him down, asked him not to go, admitted that he couldn't lose the younger male. He showed he cared, too.

Deciding that a new topic was in order, that he needed to try and cash in on this whole give and take thing and get some info of his own, he tilted his head up to look at the other male before speaking. "How'd your parents react when you told 'em?"

The singer swallowed hard, panic in his eyes, face flat. "They don't know. Logan's the only one I told that I'm bi-well, him and now you. Freight Train probably knows now though, but I trust him not to say anything." A smirk played on his lips. "Confidentiality agreements are a beautiful thing."

The blond didn't care about that-although he kinda figured the bodyguard would've had to had signed some sorta contract to keep his mouth shut, otherwise celeb protectors everywhere would be cashing in on their clients' dirty lil secrets all the time-focusing more on the first part of what he said. "You haven't told your parents?"

The singer lifted a hand, smearing it over his face before letting it drop onto the bed. "Shit with my folks is complicated, too. And I swear one day I'll tell you what's up, just not right now. Mostly cause I'm dying for a shower. And your smelly ass needs one, too."

A salacious smirk formed in the brunet's face, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and the blond couldn't help but grin back. _That_ was the greeting he'd been expecting when he came back from meeting up with Camille.

"Ya know," he started, turning slightly so he was halfway laying on the other male. "We should save water and shower together."

"Oh, definitely," the singer agreed, face serious. "It's good for the environment."

"We're just being green."

"Being good people."

"Right."

Both started smiling at the same moment, both laughing before James slapped Kendall's ass.

"All right then, let's go, stinky," the brunet instructed as he sat up, forcing the blond to do the same.

"Hey!" the teen objected as he stood, glaring as he watched the elder male rise to his own feet. "If anyone's stinky here, it's _you_, gym rat."

The pop star just shrugged, before reaching his arms up and stretching, ending the action by flexing the limbs and admiring his own biceps with a smirk. The smaller male totally wasn't drooling. "Takes a lotta work to look _this_ good."

Green eyes were rolled as boots were kicked off. "And it takes a big head to be _that_ cocky."

The singer dropped his arms, feigning a confused look. "All I heard was 'head' and 'cock' and I can only assume you wanna suck my dick again."

Nope. Still not drooling. Denial might be more beautiful than confidentiality agreements.

Kendall hooked his fingers in the waistband of the elder male's sweats, pulling their bodies closer, grinding their cocks together. "Maybe you should get naked then."

A tongue darted out as hazel eyes dipped down, locking onto the teen's lips as he licked his own. "Sounds like a good idea to me," he stated lowly, husky edge to his words. Stepping back, he let the elastic waistband of his pants snap against his skin, tugging his wifebeater over his head and dropping it on the ground.

The blond licked his own lips as he stepped over again, pressing their crotches together as his hands roamed a ridged abdomen. Their lips connected in a heated kiss, only breaking to remove Kendall's tee, managing to keep contact as James toed off his sneakers.

The younger male slipped his hands under the elder's waistband, pushing the sweats down muscular thighs, purposely rubbing against a hardening dick through the boxers the singer was wearing. The brunet broke the kiss, rubbing his nose against the other's, both males panting. Another quick meeting of the lips-or three-and he sauntered into the bathroom.

Kendall stood there stunned as he realized what happened. He'd told about his dads, about his belief that everyone was gonna leave, that he was the reason why both of his paternal figures had bailed. He'd told those things and survived. And James was still around.

And throwing boxers at his head.

"Get your cute ass in here!" the singer's voice called through, audible over the running shower.

Kendall yanked the undies off his head, dropping them on the floor as he glare at the open bathroom door. Quickly removing his jeans, he tossed them aside before stomping into the en suite. "Stop calling me cute!"


	32. Dirty Deeds While Getting Clean

_**A/N: **__Here comes another avalanche of bullshit._

_By the way, if you get that quote, congrats! You have _excellent_ taste in movies._

_Anyway, I had a fucking godawful month, mentally anyway. And when I did actually have an okay day where I felt motivated to do something, I was busy with yardwork or working on my Big Time Bang entry. But hey! This is done now and here it is._

_Um, don't think I need to cover my ass about anything. *clicks tongue while thinking* _

_Shout out to Linda, cause she is the shit and I would hug her if we lived near each other and I actually liked hugging... But fanart and removing Dustin from pics... Love ya! 3_

_I believe that's it. I'm getting distracted by "A New Hope" and this poison ivy/sumac/whateverthedeuceitis that's on my arms... I'm so itchy it makes me cry... Whatever._

_Oh and _**REVIEW**_! Please. Lil Writer Ego is, like, dead right now. You guys have killed it. *guilt trip guilt trip guilt trip*_

* * *

James' hands were like a gift from Heaven.

Or Hell, depending on how it was looked at.

Kendall wasn't entirely sure at that moment in time.

It started out innocently enough, as shit tends to do. Both males washed their hair, taking turns under the spray. As the brunet rinsed his shampoo out, the blond grabbed the complimentary body wash, starting to clean his lean frame, only to be stopped.

The singer started rambling about water and shea something or other, the teen wasn't following, or caring. He was more focused on the other male's hands as they took the bottle out of his hand and grabbed his own body wash, "Cuda" displayed in large letters up the side of it. The elder male poured some in his palm, rubbing his hands together, before rubbing the other male down.

Rather than just standing there like a lameass, Kendall decided to join in, pouring some of the cleansing soap in his own palms and washing the other male. His hands rubbed over thick biceps, flat pecs, ridged abs, taking his time to appreciate each muscle and groove on the larger male.

Reaching around, he started rubbing strong back muscles, pulling the singer closer, feeling him half hard against his thigh. He brushed their lips together, barely there touches, once, twice, before finally kissing him properly, lips moving together in a now well-practiced dance.

James pressed their bodies closer, groins aligned, rubbing, causing both males to groan. His arms wrapped around the smaller male, one hand splayed along his back near the shoulder blades, the other much further south as he slid a finger inside the teen.

Kendall moaned, the sound muffled, lips parted on a gasp that was swallowed by the other male. Their tongues met, dueling, rubbing, as their pelvises began moving together, hips thrusting.

He pulled away to breathe out a "fuck", grinding against the other male, a second finger sliding inside him. His fingers dug into the larger male's back, slipping against slick skin, barely able to hold on. His hips moved more, dick now fully erect, seeking friction in front and in back as he felt those fingers moving in and out of his hole.

"Still so fuckin' tight," the singer commented, arm wrapping around the smaller male's waist and holding him close.

The blond could only whimper, feeling those fingers rubbing his inner walls, feeling another hard cock rubbing his own, sensitive skin sliding together.

"Fuck, you feel so good."

The teen smiled at the compliment, still needing more. He grabbed hold of the body wash, pouring more in his palm then putting the bottle back on the shelf. Slightly pulling back, he wrapped his hand around both their cocks, pressing them together. Both males groaned, the most sensitive spots on their dicks rubbing together. Using the body wash to lubricate his motions, the blond began stroking both of them together.

"Oh, shit!" James cried out, bucking into the younger male's grip, fingers stilling inside his hole.

Kendall smiled, keeping his fingers around both of them and thrusting his hips, causing the head of his dick to rub along the length of the elder's.

The singer's lips parted, jaw hanging slack, shaky breaths leaving him. He started moving his fingers again, sliding them in and out of the teen's entrance, rubbing against his prostate. The blond let out a gasp turned moan, pants leaving his own parted lips, as he grabbed hold of the larger male's bicep. His head dropped, forehead on a broad shoulder as he trembled slightly, feeling that heat spread throughout his body again. He felt himself being stretched, loosened, felt the need to be filled rise inside of him. Still gripping both their cocks, he started jacking them together, stroking their lengths, speeding up his motions.

"Need you," he confessed lowly, turning his head to kiss the other male's neck. "Need you." He took the singer's earlobe in his mouth and sucked before biting it.

James gasped out, nodding, sliding in a third finger and making the blond cry out at the extra digit rubbing his prostate. "Shit, need to be in you."

"Then fuck me," Kendall panted out, lips grazing the elder male's ear, hand releasing their cocks and taking hold of the singer's balls. "Please." He gave them a squeeze, massaging his sac, relishing the moans and shakes coming from the other male.

"Shi—fu—oh, god, Kendall," he panted out, fingers still again, body rigid as teen pressed his lips to the larger male's collarbone.

"Please," he repeated, lips kissing their way down to a nipple, sucking hard on it.

The brunet let out a long broken "ahhh", hips bucking, head tilting back, body tensing. "Shit! Ah, fuck."

The blond kept sucking, kept massaging the other male's balls, feeling them tighten. He felt the pop star thrusting against his thigh, hard dick twitching against him. "Please."

"Can't."

The fuck he couldn't.

Kendall pulled his mouth away, straightening up into a standing position. Rubbing their noses together, he pressed his cock against the singer's, grinding them together. "Why not?" The question was breathed out against the other male's lips, the two pairs barely touching, just enough to tease.

James let out a small groan, a whimper, his voice needy and speaking of the desperation they both felt. "Stuff's still in the bedroom."

Well, shit.

Releasing his hold on the other male's sac, the blond reached over, shutting off the water. "Okay, clean enough," he stated in a hurry, arms around the larger male as he slid the frosted glass door over to let them out.

The brunet chuckled at the teen's impatience, reconnecting their lips as he slid his fingers out, the digits threading through wet, dirty blond locks. The younger male put his hands on the elder's hips, kissing him deeply as he pushed him back, stepping forward in order to leave the shower.

Only they didn't exit the way he thought they would.

The singer's heels caught against the low rim of the shower base, causing him to fall backwards, pulling the smaller male down on top of him. Both males let out gasps and "whoa"s as they toppled over, lips parting, both landing with loud "oof"s. The brunet let out a groan, taking the brunt of the fall, back hitting the tiled floor, front absorbing the force of the other male's trip down.

"You okay?" Kendall asked, voice a mix of genuine concern and an inability to hide an amused disbelief at what happened.

James grimaced, eyes shut, letting out a groaned tinged laugh. "Yeah," he replied, voice strained, the wind seeming to have been knocked out of him.

"Sorry," he apologized, genuinely meaning it for the first time in...well, a while.

"No worries," the singer stated, eyes opening up. "Taking it as a compliment."

The blond arched an eyebrow. "A compliment?"

"Yeah. Clearly I'm _that_ good that you're in such a hurry for me to fuck you and you didn't bother looking in your rush to get in bed."

Cocky bastard was right but the blond would be damned if he'd admit it.

"You gonna get off?"

"Fuck, I hope so," the teen stated lowly, hips grinding against the other male's, dick still hard.

The singer moaned, his own pelvis bucking up at the contact. "Not what I meant," he breathed out.

"But this?" he started then stopped, grinding down hard, pressing their cocks together between their pelvises, feeling the other male's twitch against his own."This is _so_ much better."

The brunet gasped, hands in a bruising grip on the blond's hips. Their eyes locked, heated states exchanged, wordless promises of pleasure and ecstasy to come, all the while the smaller male kept up his movements, kept grinding, kept rutting, motions eased by the dampness of their skin.

Kendall's hands roamed up broad sides, fingers splayed, feeling the ridges of obliques, the rapid rise and fall of a wide chest as the elder male breathed harshly. He settled his hands over flat pecs, thumbs rubbing hard nipples, whimpers coming from below. The singer's teeth were digging into his bottom lip, trying to hold back any noises, lids halfway down dark eyes that were begging, pleading. Although what exactly it was the brunet wanted—more, less, stop, keep going—the blond wasn't sure.

"Wanna ride you," he breathed out, grazing their lips together.

James' hips bucked up as he groaned. "Fuck, please do." But neither of them got up, both just kept grinding, both moaning and breathing hard. "Shit, gonna come."

That had the teen lifting his head up, pushing his torso up into a sitting position. Position changed, he altered the angle of his motions, continuing to rub their cocks together. "Yeah?" He teased, seeing the tenseness in the other male's body, seeing the hard lines on his face, the way he was holding himself back.

The brunet just groaned, a desperate sort of laugh joining it. "Fuck, Kendall, please."

It was a clue to get up, to go through to the bedroom, grab what they needed, and start round three. But James' words from before came back to his head, causing a smirk to form on his face and an idea to form in his head.

Lifting himself up, he moved down, down, down, settling between the larger male's legs, spreading them before taking hold of the elder male's cock.

"Kendall." His name was a desperate whine from the singer's lips, more beautiful than any song he'd ever sung and he responded by slowly licking the brunet's dick from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head. More groans hit his ears, hips bucking up, and he smirked before coating the hard organ in his saliva.

"Fuck," James breathed out, head tilting back, fingers carding through dirty blond locks, hand resting there.

Kendall stroked his hand up and down the length, squeezing gently, thumb tracing over the wet slit. Eyes locked onto the elder male, he took one of his balls in his mouth, sucking hard.

"Jesus, fuck!" The singer's back arched, a harsh exhale leaving him, fingers cranked down on the teen's hair as the other grabbed hold of a bath mat on the floor. His chest was rising and falling faster, harder, completely out of rhythm with anything that could be considered normal.

The younger male took the reaction as a sign to keep going, to do more, tonguing the ball he had in his mouth. He turned his attention to the second, giving it the same treatment, all the while his hand slowly stroked up and down the elder male's throbbing cock.

The brunet cocked a leg up, knee bent, heel trying to dig into the tile floor but slipping. He was practically hyperventilating, nonsensical words and noises leaving him sporadically, and the blond wondered if the other male was even aware of what he was doing or saying.

Then he felt his hair being pulled and suddenly shit didn't matter.

His lips parted as he let out a long moan, dick pulsing, reminding him that it was still there and, fuck, it needed some attention, too. But the younger male's mind was more set on revenge, set on causing more of those moans, more of those body spasms that seemed to be wracking the larger male. That thought in mind, he lowered his head once again, taking both balls in his mouth at once.

"Shit, fuck, shi—" the elder male didn't quite finish the word, jaw hanging open, eyes wide. His stomach was tense, showing more definition between each shaky muscle, his entire body so rigid it was trembling. "Oh god, fuck, Kendall, gonna—" he trailed off in a series of pants, fingers tugging harder on blond hair.

Kendall didn't need to hear the rest of it to know what the other male was gonna say. Moving his head again, he took the head of the larger male's dick in his mouth, sucking hard as he continued to stroke him.

"Shit, Kendall, fuck!" The singer called out, hips leaving the floor as he came, filling the teen's mouth.

The blond kept stroking as he swallowed, licking him clean, tonguing up what dribbled out of his mouth. The brunet lay on the floor, panting hard, still trembling as he came down, eyes closed but lips parted. Moving up his body, the smaller male pressed open-mouthed kisses on the larger's stomach, hands rubbing up and down muscular sides in a soothing manner.

"Oh, god, I am _so_ gonna fuck your brains out later," the brunet commented, still breathing hard.

The blond laughed against tan skin, tilting his head up to see the other male's face. Dark eyes were peering down at him, face still turned mostly towards the ceiling, lips curved into a smirk.

"'Later', huh?"

"Well, yeah," the singer stated in a 'duh' manner. "Gonna need some time to recover from that." He released his grip on the teen's hair, shoving his fingers through his own locks as he rested his hand on his forehead. His eyes closed once again, leg flopping over, clearly out of strength to hold it up any longer.

Kendall let out a fake sigh, sitting back, acting pissed that he had to wait. Although really, he didn't have to try too hard to fake that, considering how angry his dick actually was that it wasn't being touched, wasn't getting any relief of its own. "_Fiiiine_," he drew the word out, exacerbated, eyes roaming the large male before him. The large male who clearly had no problem laying sprawled out naked on the bathroom floor. Then again, if Kendall had a body like that, he'd probably join a nudist colony and never cover up.

"Like what you see?"

The elder male's voice snapped him out of his visual perusal, eyes flipping up to a smirking face. The brunet had a hand behind his head, holding it up, seeming to have been watching the blond as he looked the larger male over.

Not wanting to feed the pop star's ego or kiss his ass, the teen just shrugged, putting an unimpressed look on his face. "Meh. Seen better."

That wiped that smirk away. "Bullshit."

"How the fuck do _you_ know?"

"Because," the larger male started as he sat up, moving onto his knees. "There aren't any better than me."

Kendall rolled his eyes, even as James moved closer, got in his face, brushed their noses together. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."

"Mmhmm," the singer replied, licking his lips, his tongue inadvertently touching the younger male's pair. A shiver raced down his spine, his breath leaving him on a shaky exhale. "This says you agree."

A warm hand wrapped around his still hard cock, making him moan, head falling back. His body slumped, hitting the doors to the shower, as a large frame pressed into him from the front.

James settled on his lap, stroking him slowly, large arm wrapping around his lean torso. Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, as the smaller male wrapped his arms around broad shoulders.

"Shit," the teen breathed out, head falling back again, hitting the door unnoticed, mind more focused on the way the other male's hand felt around his dick, how perfectly he stroked him, how close he was getting.

The brunet moved his head to the crook of the smaller male's neck, licking where it met the shoulder, sucking the tender skin. "Wanna eat you again."

"Oh, fuck, please." It was the blond's turn to beg, to moan, to writhe, hips lifting up on each downward stroke. He needed, wanted, craved, ached. Which was, of course, when the brunet stopped.

James stood, grabbing hold of the younger male's hands and pulling him to his feet before slinging him over a wide shoulder. Protests were replied to with a slap to the ass, which created a moan, which led to another slap, the cycle repeating until the blond was dumped unceremoniously onto the bed. He bounced once before the larger male laid on top of him, lips meeting in a heated kiss, a melding of lips that sparked the fire in Kendall he was sure wouldn't go out whenever James was around.

The brunet grabbed hold of one of the younger male's thighs, pulling, forcing the teen to hitch his leg up. The singer settled between the long limbs, grinding his flaccid dick against the blond's still hard one, swallowing the gasped out moan the action caused. A long moment of this, of thrusting hips and moving lips, and he made his descent.

The blond spread his legs automatically, too turned on to care about being shy or embarrassed. Lips parted around the head of his dick, the warm suction coupled with a few strokes of the hand, a flicking of the tongue, turning his exhales into shaky gasps. His chest was rising and falling at a rapid rate, body trembling with anticipation, and all he could do was watch the other male and hope relief came soon.

James didn't draw it out too long, pushing the teen's legs towards his chest, the younger male holding them back. He spread pale cheeks apart and dove in, tongue stabbing, licking, circling, making the blond cry out. The wet muscle rubbed tender nerves, pressed sensitive skin, hit every spot that was guaranteed to drive the blond insane. And when two fingers slid inside and pressed his prostate, the smaller male blew his load, screaming out the elder's name.

Kendall barely felt himself being licked clean again, only knew it was happening because he saw it. At least he was pretty sure he saw it. His vision was a li'l fuzzy at that moment.

James crawled his way up, flopping onto his back on the teen's right. Neither spoke, both just stared at the ceiling as they recovered, the blond a li'l more than the brunet.

"You scare the shit outta me."

Who apparently had a random fear of the younger male.

Kendall's brow furrowed as confusion set in. He didn't _think_ he'd done something worthy of eliciting fear in someone, but that didn't mean anything.

His mind went back to a conversation with Carlos outside Sherwood's Grocery, when the Latino had told the blond to not wear his "scary" shirts. And while the metal head didn't think there was anything wrong with his Funeral For a Friend tee, that didn't mean the pop star wasn't worried about what connotation the words were stated in.

"Is this about the shirt?" He questioned, using his thumb to point to his right at the general area he was pretty sure his tee was in. Turning his head to the left, he got a good look at the brunet, who was still staring up at the ceiling. Despite the dim light coming from the still stormy world outside, the blond could still perfectly see the way the singer's brow was drawn in thought, the way his body was tense, the way his dark eyes seemed to have a million thoughts and emotions racing through them all at once.

Confusion won out, displayed on perfect features as James turned his head and looked at the younger male. "What? No."

"Oh." He dropped his hand on his bare stomach, scratching skin that was still slightly damp from the combination of the shower, sweat from previous physical activities, and the other male's saliva. "So how exactly do I scare you?"

The elder male turned his head back towards the ceiling, swallowing hard. He didn't say anything, instead sitting up, legs drawn up towards his chest, arms dangling off his knees with his hands clasped. "I'm not used to this, to feeling. _Anything_." He let out a sigh as his left hand rubbed his forehead. He was silent, the younger male not speaking either, allowing the singer to gather his thoughts and figure out exactly what he was gonna say. The sounds of the heavy rain outside was the only noise, a soundtrack of water tapping glass, pavement, trees.

James dropped his hand, letting it hang as he turned his head back to look at the still laying teen. "But then there you were and I felt drawn to you so I brought you onstage. And I thought it was just a one-time thing, ya know? Just the moment making it feel like—" He paused, shaking his head and shrugging as he struggled to come up with the right word. "Like _something_ was there between us, ya know?"

Kendall nodded, knowing _exactly_ what the brunet was saying, what he meant. He'd spent months debating, torturing himself as he wavered between feeling like he missed out in the greatest love he'd ever know and believing he was deluding himself into thinking it was anything more than just the circumstances surrounding the situation.

"And then you showed up again," the pop star continued, letting out a small disbelieving laugh. "And I felt that same pull from before. Then I kissed you and. _God_, was it amazing. Incredible. Mind-blowingly intense. _So_ intense I couldn't handle it, didn't know what to do or think 'cause I'd never felt _anything_ even _close_ to that. It freaked me out."

"So you left." Statement, not a question, as the blond recalled a previous conversation about that very topic, about how the brunet had said he panicked and that's why he bailed.

And he supposed it made sense. It had overwhelmed Kendall, too, had caused some pretty fucking intense reactions within him—other than just the boner he got. So if James was really as bad at dealing with emotions as he was claiming, then running away might've seemed like his only option.

The blond sat up, scooting back so he was against the headboard, watching the brunet nod in response to what he'd said, the singer's head turned so he was staring towards the still open bathroom door. Hands in his lap, the teen began playing with his fingers, torn between hating how serious everything had become and feeling relieved and glad they were actually managing to get all this shit out in the open.

"You still shouldn't have left."

More nodding from the elder male, his head hanging, eyes focused more on the carpet. "I know," he stated. "And I felt like shit after, couldn't stop thinking about you, wondering if you hated me, how I could get in contact with you so I could explain and make it up to you. No fucking way could I have waited for the next tour, not when I'm about to head to the studio to record an album next." His right hand lifted, fingers combing his bangs, head turning away from the younger male as he continued. "So I made Logan look up your info and used your sister's birthday as an excuse to email."

The corner of Kendall's lips tugged up in a small smirk as he looked at the singer's tan back. "Surprised you remembered it to be honest."

A nonchalant shrug was his response. "She's important to you and I figured a good way to get to you would be through her." He turned his head back, hand dropping onto the bed. "Kinda shitty, huh? Using someone like that."

"I don't think so," the blond replied, mentally adding that he wasn't exactly the best person to judge shitty actions given his history. But there was no need to bring any of that shit up, not when he was still able to hold on to the singer. "So it's not _me_ you're scared of, just what I make you feel?" he tried to clarify, determined to get info while the other male was willing to give it.

James turned away again, arms wrapped around his bare legs. "Emotions weren't exactly part of my family growing up."

Kendall didn't hesitate. He moved closer, arms sliding around the elder male's waist, his torso pressed against a broad back as he kissed a shoulder. A tan hand covered pale ones, the singer turning his head to meet the teen's eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," he vowed, face solemn, serious.

"Neither am I."

The elder male pressed their foreheads together, twisting his body so he could wind an arm around the smaller male, his other hand threading through blond locks as he held the back of his head. "I can't lose you."

"You won't." He briefly wondered when and how this became about reassuring _James_ that _he_ wasn't gonna bail, but the thought flew out the window as soon as he felt another pair of lips against his own.

His eyes drifted closed on their own, mind lost in the kiss, a slow, sweet action as their lips moved together. He felt himself being moved backwards, laid down on the bed, a now familiar weight settling on top of his lean frame. Forearms were on the bed on either side of him, hands framing his head, legs between his own as their bodies lined up perfectly from chest to hips. He was being kissed gently, with reverence, and for the second time ever, he felt like he was something valuable.

He reopened his eyes, double-checking the whole thing was real, that it was James kissing him that way and not some random guy he was imagining to be the pop star. But it was. There was that flawless tan skin, those long lashes that seemed fake, that slender nose, those perfect cheekbones.

Definitely James.

Kendall parted his lips as he closed his eyes once more, licking at the other male's. The brunet took the hint and soon their tongues were brought into play, pressing against each other, the blond winning the battle and gaining access to the other's mouth. He mapped out every nook and cranny, memorized the feel, savored the taste, knowing that all too soon, it would all be over and he'd be back in Minnesota alone.

Fingers tugged at his hair, moans swallowed by the larger male, their hips moving together. Kendall lifted a knee, bent leg resting against a large thigh, his own pelvis rocking against the elder male's. His dick started twitching, waking up once more, a result of the grinding action and the kiss he was still experiencing. He felt the singer start to harden against him, harsh breathes panting against his skin, and it wasn't long before neither of them were able to keep the lip lock going.

James pulled his mouth away first, forehead pressed against the blond's, his nose rubbing the younger's as he started moving in earnest. Their eyes locked, pants joining the chorus of the rain outside, the creaking mattress inside, the occasional moan adding to the musical number.

Kendall's splayed fingers moved down a broad back, feeling the muscles move with each roll of the hips. His fingers gripped them, dug into the skin, tried to grab hold as he felt himself get lost in the sensations, felt himself get more heated, more aroused, more _everything_.

"Need you," he repeated his earlier words, one hand gripping onto a shoulder, the other wrapped around James' lower back.

The singer nodded, licking dry lips before pressing them against the teen's, re-engaging him in another kiss, one more heated and passionate than before. His left hand moved down, grabbing hold of the blond's thigh and hitching his leg higher, parting his asscheeks and exposing his hole for priming.

Only Kendall was having none of that.

Using the element of surprise, he sat up, forcing James to do the same, utilizing the momentum to flip them over so the blond was now on top, the brunet now laying back against the pillows. Their lips parted with the action, the larger male looking at him with dark, heated eyes, teeth sinking into his lower lip as his hands moved to the smaller's hips.

"I told you," the teen started as he sat up, straddling the elder male. "I wanna ride you."

The groan the singer let out clearly meant he was on board with the plan, hips grinding upwards, dick rubbing against the smaller male's. The blond reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom and the lube, the bottle immediately taken away from him. Fingers quickly slicked up, the elder slid two inside the younger, wrenching out a groan.

The blond buried his head in the crook of the brunet's neck, mouth hanging open as he breathed out harshly, hands flat against wide pecs, body slightly trembling. He was slightly hurting, result of having his entrance being used, being played with frequently in a small amount of time after going so long without getting any sorta action. It was his own fault really. But sex wasn't something he'd gone after for a while, especially after having met James the first time and dealing with the somewhat delusional thoughts of saving himself for the singer after. And yeah, okay, he could've kept himself stretched, but it was awkward enough just tryna jack off in a house with females as his only fellow residents. He didn't need them to know what else he'd be doing.

Bad enough his mom could've possibly overheard him having phone sex.

Yeah, he needed to not think about his mom at that moment.

The fingers pressing against his prostate helped make that happened.

Kendall groaned loudly, back arching, chest pressing into the other male's. He bit down on the shoulder below him, ground his hips down harder, dug his fingers into the singer's chest. "Fuck, James, please," he pleaded, words muffled by tan skin.

The elder male slid in a third finger, rubbing lube around, getting the younger nice and wet. Precome was leaking out both their cocks, making their rubbing action slippery, easy. Unable to take much more, the blond tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth, taking out the rubber before reaching between their bodies and rolling it over the other male's dick.

The fingers left him as he sat up, allowing him to focus on getting the lube back and open, squirting some on the larger male's cock and stroking it. He watched with rapt attention as the brunet bit down on his own bottom lip, as he rolled his hips in an attempt to get more friction.

"Why are you so fuckin' good at everything?" the singer wondered aloud, hands back on the teen's hips, thumbs rubbing the protrusion of bone there.

The blond smirked at the compliment, snapping the cap back on the lube before returning it to the nightstand. The brunet moved his hands, palming his ass and spreading his cheeks as the younger male took hold of his cock, lining it up then sinking down onto it.

James groaned loudly, head tilting back against the pillow, fingers digging into the fleshy globes of Kendall's ass. "Oh, fuck, you're perfect."

The younger male could only choke out a laugh as he took more of the other male inside him, slowly moving, letting himself get adjusted and ignoring the slight burn around his hole. But if he could speak, he'd be returning the sentiment, honest words of how amazing the elder felt in him, how perfectly he filled him up, how he could feel every single inch and how incredible it was. He'd explain how he could feel it all over his body, how the pleasure just radiated throughout him, how it made his toes curl and his skin tingle and his heart pound and his mind just stop working. He'd tell all about how every thrust sent him flying, how every nerve sizzled and sparked, how it was as close to a near-death experience as he was ever gonna get.

But he couldn't say any of it, couldn't find the words. Instead he just sank all the way down, not stopping until his ass hit the other male's pelvis and he had all of his dick inside him.

James lifted his head, lips parted as he looked up at the younger male in awe, his own breath coming out in shaky pants. His hands moved up and down the smaller male's sides, his torso, petting, caressing, reassuring. Which was actually really fucking needed, considering how shaky Kendall felt both inside and out.

The blond exhaled slowly through puffed out cheeks, giving himself a moment to adjust. Sex for him was almost always an invasion, filling, stretching, pushing him closer and closer towards his limits. But with the brunet, he was pushed past them, filled more than ever, stretched beyond what he had been. And the fact that this was his second time being fucked in a twelve hour period—something he'd never done before, although having sex with someone as big as the singer was a first to begin with—wasn't helping anything.

"You okay?"

The question caught the teen's attention, making him realize he was slightly grimacing. Wiping the face away, he forced a small smile, letting out a tiny laugh. "Yeah. Just." He paused, shifting his hips and causing the other male to let out a gasp, darkened hazel eyes popping wide open. "Fuck, you're big."

The singer chuckled. "You say the sweetest things."

Moving his hands, he placed them flat on the other male's chest, leaning forward slightly as he glared down at the pop star. "Who said that was a compliment?"

James snorted, rolling his eyes before cupping a hand behind Kendall's neck. "Bring your smart mouth down here, ya li'l shit."

It was the blond's turn to laugh as he felt himself being pulled down, smirking when their lips met. It wasn't much of a kiss, just their lips pressed together, both males grinning too much to be able to do much else. But the connection was there and that's all that mattered to the younger male.

After a long moment, Kendall sat back up, settling in a crouch of sorts over the other male. Keeping his hands on the brunet's broad chest, he slowly raised himself up, feeling the lube-slicked drag of the elder male's cock inside of him. When he felt the head tug at the rim of his hole, he sank back down, filling himself back up with a groan.

James breathed out a swear, eyelids halfway down as he focused his stare at the younger male's face. His hands gripped the blond's sides, thumbs rubbing his hipbone once again, letting the teen take the lead and do the work.

For the moment anyway.

Kendall settled into a rhythm, not fast, not slow, raising and lowering himself up and down the other male's dick. He wasn't really much for being on top, preferring to be dominated, held down, pinned to the bed—or wall or counter, whatever, he wasn't picky—and fucked. But with James, he wanted to go through the Kama Sutra, try every position, and take notes over what worked, what didn't, and what they wanted to do a second, third, fourth, fifth time.

God, he was a whore.

At least for James anyway.

The thought that he was being used as a sex toy re-entered his brain, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. If the guy only wanted to fuck him, he would've let Kendall leave, wouldn't have chased after him, wouldn't have kissed him the rain, wouldn't have begged him to stay.

The blond swallowed hard as he tilted his head down, a tightness constricting his chest, emotions overwhelming him. It was all he'd wanted, for someone to want him around, for someone to chase after him, for someone to actually show that they cared in some way, shape, or form. And he got it. With a man he felt himself falling for.

Fuck.

Shaking his head, he got rid of all the heavy, emotional bullshit rattling around his brain and focused on the moment, on what was happening then and there. James' dark eyes were locked onto where his dick was moving in and out the younger male, teeth sinking into his own bottom lip. His face was tight, muscles strained like he was holding back, like it was killing him not to be pounding into the smaller male and having his way with him. The blond smirked, feeling like a li'l shit as he stopped the rise and fall action, moving his hips in a grinding circle instead.

The sound the brunet made was something close to a growl, glaring up at the other male. "Teasing li'l jerk."

Kendall kept up the smirk, purposely moving slower. "You love it."

"Love this more."

That was all the warning the teen got. The singer tightened his hold, making it damn near impossible for him to move, before thrusting his own pelvis up and down. Slightly raising the blond up, the brunet bent his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he began pounding into the younger male at a rapid pace.

The smaller male couldn't do much except moan, one hand braced on the larger's chest, the other gripping the top of the headboard, using it to keep himself from behind completely thrown off. He felt his orgasm building up faster, spine tingling, balls tightening, toes curling, a warmth spreading throughout his entire body.

"Close," he managed to get out between pants, head tilted back as he felt the other male relentlessly slamming into him from below. "Close. Close."

"Fuck that." Another near growl and before the blond realized it, the brunet had pulled out and flipped him onto his back. Without hesitation, James jerked Kendall's legs apart, damn near pulling them out their sockets, before moving down between them. He dragged the flat of his tongue over the teen's gaping hole, wrenching out a groan, before lapping at the still open entrance.

The teen tilted his head back, eyes closed, fingers digging into the comforter, spine arching. It was too much on the sensitive pucker of skin, too much and not enough as he felt his hole twitch, felt it pulsing, trying to grab onto something and pull it in, demanding to be filled. He felt the singer's tongue slide in and he clenched around it, trying to keep it inside.

"Please!" he begged, hand slamming against the mattress as he felt the tongue slide back out. "God, fuck, James, _please_." His voice was verging in the edge of hysterical, but he didn't care. His need to come was an ache he felt all over and it was making him desperate, wanton, shameless.

Three fingers were pushed into him, making him groan, his spine arching once more. His right leg was bent, heel digging into the mattress before he felt it being pushed up by a strong hand around his ankle.

"God, look at you," James commented, voice awestruck and in wonder. "You'd let me do anything to do right now, wouldn't you?"

Kendall groaned, the sound ending with a desperate laugh as his hips rolled, his hole clenched, and his dick throbbed. He could feel his orgasm bubbling up, right on the brink, and he neededneeded_needed_ that eruption to happen soon.

A kiss was placed to the side of his foot right at the arch, the touch soft, gentle, and in any other situation it would've been soothing. But Kendall was too keyed up, too far gone, and all it did was make his hips leave the bed and a beg leave his lips.

"Say it," James commanded, voice gruff, strained, full of his own need. "Say you'll let me do whatever I want to you."

'_Fuck. That_,' the blond thought, a small amount of pride still remaining, still there.

He felt the other male's thumb press against his perineum, felt it press through the skin to his prostate as the three fingers that were moving in and out of his hole rubbed it from the inside. A swear left him on a shout, back arching again, right arm flailing out to the side and grabbing onto the mattress in a white knuckle grip.

"_SAY IT!_"

"_Fuck_! Fuckin' do whatever you want to me, just let me come." He was broken, too close to care about anything but the orgasm that hadn't been let out and the way his entire body felt like it was being electrified.

"Good boy," was the singer's low response, pinky sliding inside the teen's hole to join his other fingers.

Kendall's entire body jerked, curling up around his midsection. His entrance screamed in pain, the stretch more than he'd had before, more than he could handle. But it didn't matter. Those four fingers rubbed his prostate, triggering his orgasm and allowing him to finally get the relief he needed.

His body slammed back onto the bed, head pushing into the pillows as his spine arched. He felt the wet streams of his come hit his torso, felt the pulsing of his dick, felt all normal human functions stop as wave after wave of ecstasy hit him.

And James kept stroking.

The younger male didn't get a chance to come down—or even start to for that matter. The elder tucked his thumb into his palm, allowing it to join the other digits still in the blond's entrance, essentially fisting him.

"No," Kendall protested, voice weak. He felt like he was being ripped apart, the pain too much, and everything in his body told him to get as far away from the cause of it as possible.

If only someone hadn't come in and replaced his bones with jello.

"You said I could," James stated, voice still rough, lips pressing a kiss to the teen's hipbone. "It's okay. You can handle it."

The blond started shaking his head back and forth, eyes closed, repeating a mantra of "no no no". But the other male didn't listen, didn't seem to care. He just kept moving his hand in and out, stroking the younger male's insides, rubbing his prostate.

If he hadn't just come—or wasn't already suffering from a slightly abused hole—he might've actually enjoyed it.

But as it was, it hurt and was too uncomfortable and all he wanted was for it to stop. He felt lips wrap around his softening dick, a wet suction starting up around the sensitive organ, and he spasmed, a gasp-like groan leaving him.

"Relax," the brunet suggested, voice soothing, calming. "I got ya."

The blond swallowed hard, forcing himself to look down. Past his heaving chest and his trembling abdomen, he met the brunet's eyes, seeing the care and the affection in them, even in such dim lighting. James wasn't gonna hurt him, wasn't gonna push him too far. If he honestly wanted shit to stop, he could say so and the elder male would. He wasn't sure how he knew it, he just did.

"James." His voice was weak, broken, and he felt small. This wasn't him. This wasn't the Kendall Knight he usually was, the one with the hard exterior, the one with the abandonment issues that caused him to act like a dick and push people away. He was an entirely new person, one who felt vulnerable, scared, without walls. He wasn't entirely sure if he liked it.

The singer held the eye contact, free hand rubbing a soothing circle on his hip bone, his leg long having been released without him even realizing it. "Whaddya want?" the brunet asked in a low volume. "Say it and it's yours."

The teen felt a lump in his throat, emotions making his chest tight once more. He felt shaky all over, his skin too tight for his body, and all he wanted to do was run back to Minnesota and hide in his bed until he could learn to better deal with everything. Or for five years, whichever came first.

But it was that fear that made him stay, that made him look right into the other male's eyes with a steady voice he wasn't entirely sure belonged to him. "You."

Something seemed to break inside James, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. The mask wasn't there, but it was still hard to tell what was going on in his mind. Too many emotions were flashing through his eyes, but his face looked... overwhelmed.

Without a word, the brunet slid his fingers out the blond and moved up the younger male's frame. He gently laid on top of the teen, connecting them from chest to hip, a hand cupping his face as he braced himself on his forearms. "You have me."

Almost immediately, Kendall thought back to when he'd said those very words to the singer, sitting in the break room at work, cell phone pressed to his ear.

"_That might be scarier than not having you at all._"

God, how true were those words?

Leaning down, the brunet connected their lips in a kiss that was equal parts affection, tenderness, passion, and desire. His hips moved on their own accord, his hard cock rubbing against the blond's half-hard one. After a long moment, he pulled his head back, his hand moving from the teen's face to his hair, forearm laying alongside his head, noses grazing repeatedly.

Both of them were shaky, breathing unevenly, bodies trembling. Kendall's arms wrapped around James' frame, holding him close, almost clinging to him in a way. It wasn't smart, wasn't sane. He shouldn't have admitted anything, shouldn't have said he wanted the singer. He was gonna be left. He was gonna be ditched. And it was gonna fucking hurt worse than any-fucking-thing before.

"Need you."

He opened his eyes, totally unaware that he'd closed them, meeting an unsure hazel gaze. Shit, they were a pair, weren't they? Both needed and wanted the other, but both too scared or too stubborn to admit it.

A quick thought flashed through his head that the elder male only meant he needed the younger in a sexual way, that it was only that he needed to come, having not done it yet. But the larger male's hips were still, his grip on the smaller's hair and shoulder almost desperate, and a look of genuine fear was in his eyes.

"_I can't lose you._"

Cupping the back of the larger male's head, Kendall pulled him closer, kissing him fiercely and with as much emotion as he could, putting everything he was feeling and thinking into it. James seemed to get the message, tense body relaxing above the smaller male, lips moving, slotting perfectly against the other set. Soon enough, his hips started moving, their cocks rubbing together in stuttered thrusts, a sign the brunet wasn't too far away.

"In me," the blond requested, his words puffing out against the other male's lips as they panted together. "In me."

"You sure?"

He nodded, their foreheads rubbing together. "Wanna feel you."

James swallowed hard, reaching his left arm between their bodies and gripping himself. It took a li'l rearranging, Kendall spreading his legs more, one bent alongside the larger male, but soon the brunet was entering him once more.

A shot of pain flashed through the blond, his hole stinging, burning. But he wanted this, wanted to feel the other male coming inside him. Yeah, there was a condom on, but there was nothing better than the feeling of James' orgasm pulsing inside him, especially when he knew he was the one who'd caused it. So despite the raw feeling around his entrance and despite the fact that every thrust was a rough rub on his prostate, he still moaned, still moved with the other male, still wanted to feel the entry and retreat.

Because damn him, but it still felt good.

He didn't think it was possible, but the teen felt another orgasm build up. It was the feeling of being filled, the feeling of his cock rubbing between their stomachs, the feeling that settled in his chest as he met dark eyes and knew they belonged to the one person who'd managed to get through his walls and make his way closer to his heart.

"Shit, Kendall." The praise was breathed out, the brunet burying his head in the crook of the blond's neck, clutching onto him harder, tighter, closer. His thrusts were uneven, stuttered, shaky as he got closer and closer to the inevitable end.

'_That's right. Everything ends._'

Kendall closed his eyes, forcing his brain to shut up, clinging even more to the other male. His fingers slipped on sweat soaked skin, trying to dig in, trying to hold on. His own pelvis rolled against the other's, his hole clenching on every inward thrust, trying to keep him in, trying to remain full. He wanted this forever, just the two of them, skin to skin, in a bed with no one else in the world.

"Close." The single word was breathed against his skin, death grip on one shoulder, lips pressed to the other. "Oh, fuck, so close."

"Come on, James," he urged, running his fingers through damp locks, lips against the side of the other male's head. "Lemme feel ya. Please."

The brunet let out a groan, thrusts getting harder, hips slamming before finally stilling with his dick fully inside the younger male. The blond could feel the condom being filled, feel the tenseness in the larger male's muscles, feel the shaky breaths and the harsh groans.

And all of it kicked off another orgasm.

His come spurted out between their bodies, joining the mess he'd made on his stomach only moments before. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head, his body convulsing, muscles constricting and locking in place. His blood was lava pounding through his veins and he had no idea how he was gonna be able to...well, do _anything_ really. Breathing, thinking, moving, none of it was an option.

And he was _soooo_ okay with that.

James was trembling above him, his body shaking like he was out in the snow naked rather than in an LA hotel with a comfortable temperature setting on the thermostat. At least it _would_ be comfortable if they weren't sweaty and the place hadn't been heated up by their fucking.

Kendall held the other male closer, one hand rubbing his back, the other stroking soft hair at the back of his head. He pressed kisses to his cheeks, his ears, his hair, any part of the brunet he could reach, calming him, settling his nerves.

It was a long time before either of them spoke—although speaking wasn't exactly the right term. The singer's stomach had growled, breaking the silence and bursting into their post-sex haze. A second or two of quiet, then the blond snorted out a laugh, chuckles following. The brunet joined in, lifting his head, allowing the younger to see the sparkle in his eyes and the smirk on his face.

"I need to eat," the singer stated the obvious, not moving, forearms framing the teen's head.

"You mean eat something other than my ass," the younger male replied, sporting a smirk of his own.

"Mm. It _is_ rather delicious." With that, he leaned his head down and nibbled on the side of the smaller male's neck.

Only to be interrupted by the blond's stomach.

The brunet's head popped up, eyebrow cocked. "Okay, food first, fooling around second."

Kendall nodded, fully agreeing. After all the drama and all the sex, he was starving, the bagel he'd had for breakfast barely being enough for him then. Considering the work-out he'd just engaged in, he'd burned it off. And then some.

James kissed him sweetly, before pulling out, Kendall hiding the wince at the action. Remaining in bed, the teen watched the singer get up and head to the bathroom to dispose the condom, rubbing the back of his neck to loosen up stiff muscles as he walked.

Kendall reached his arms above himself, arching his back as he stretched, ignoring the sharp pain that hit when he put pressure on his ass. Yeah, he wasn't gonna be walking right for the rest of the day.

Or week. Whatever.

James returned to the room, smile on his face as he looked over at the bed, seeing the blond laying there sprawled out. "Comfy?"

The teen nodded, smirking. "Extremely."

A small chuckle left the singer as he walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed. A washcloth was in his hand and he started cleaning off the younger male's stomach—just like after their first time. "How 'bout—" he started, rubbing the damp cloth in soothing circles. "—I order room service, we eat in bed, then shower?"

"We gonna be naked while we eat? Or will I actually hafta move and get clothes on?"

An eyebrow raise was his answer, the singer done with the clean up job. "I told you—" he began, leaning forward so their lips were only an inch or so apart. "—no clothes when we're together."

The blond's brow furrowed as he met hazel eyes with his green ones. "Thought that was just when we were sleeping."

"That was before I saw you naked." He kissed the teen before getting up and taking a few steps over towards the bathroom, tossing the washcloth inside as he changed directions and headed over to the huge TV cabinet opposite the bed. "So what'll it be?"

"Burger, medium, no onion, and fries. Oh, and a coke." Although a shot of some form would've worked to calm his still jittery self after the latest round of fucking, but he figured that wasn't an option.

James smiled, amusement lighting his eyes once more. "You got good taste," he commented. "Then again you hooked up with _me_ and not Bieber so—" he ended the statement with a shrug, unable to dodge the pillow that was hit his head. Room service menu in hand, he grabbed the tossed item and walked over to the bed, slamming it on the teen's torso. "Douchebag."

The blond just laughed as the brunet sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing the phone off its cradle on the nightstand and dialing the appropriate number. As he ordered, the younger male put the pillow he'd thrown behind his head, propping himself up to get a better view of the other male. He was just sitting there naked, like it was totally normal, like it wasn't anything weird, like there wasn't another male laying right next to him sans clothes. Just ordering some burgers, no biggie.

It seemed so normal, just two lovers indulging on some post-coital grub. Only it wasn't normal. The entire thing was so fucking surreal Kendall still wasn't sure he was able to wrap his mind around it.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.


	33. Body Language Doesn't Count as Talking

_**A/N: **__This fic is so long omfg..._

_Um... Okay, hey! I didn't lie! The wait between last update and this wasn't as long as the wait between chapters 31 and 32 so there!_

_I'm outside by the pool watching the dogs chase each up and down the deck. It's way distracting. Not very conducive towards good proofreading though, so if there are typos, blame them._

_Mentions of Tumblr and Twitter, please don't sue. Apologies for more smut (oh god I'm sorry, this wasn't in the original plot but it's these two whores and they can't be stopped!) Oh! Shout out to the guest who reviewed on the last chapter and pointed out how part of it was a lil dub-con. Once again, I honestly don't really fully pay attention to what happens, I just type what I'm told and these guys do what they want. But seriously, amazing point that you brought up and it really made me think a lot..._

_Anyhoo, enjoy this update. And I swear eventually the sex will stop! (Possibly, maybe, eventually... sorry...)_

* * *

Basically, they needed to not be allowed to be alone together in showers, just like they couldn't be left alone in dressing rooms.

But, hey, on the bright side, Kendall could cross "shower sex" off his bucket list.

If he _had_ a bucket list. Which was a shame that he didn't, 'cause he'd have a ton of shit ticked off that weekend.

Shower sex? Check.

Fly across the country to visit a friend? Double check.

Hook up with a celeb? Quadruple check.

Or was it more than four times? Did fooling around, oral sex, fingering, etc etc, count?

Did he care?

Definitely not.

Especially not at that moment, when James was currently trying to pound him into the tiled wall around the shower.

It was actually pretty damn impressive, the singer able to hold up the teen, skinny legs draped over muscular arms, lifting and dropping him at an impressive speed as his own hips moved back and forth, thrusting into the younger male hard. Kendall's arms were wrapped around the larger male's neck, back sliding up and down the wet tile, head rearing back as he moaned loudly. And with the brunet holding onto him, doing all the work, all the blond could do was hold on for the ride.

And fucking hell, what a ride.

The angle was perfect, the head of the other male's dick rubbing against his prostate with every thrust, hitting it in a way he didn't think was possible. James wasn't taking it easy, slamming into the smaller male, making him feel every pound, every thrust, every move. Kendall's hole was twitching, his entire body shaking, and he felt like he couldn't breathe, the air being shoved out of him every time he was brought down, his ass slamming against the other male's hips. He took all of it, every relentless pound, every inch of the elder's cock, the brunet bottoming out inside of him, going balls deep, filling him beyond his limits, just like before. The blond wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it, but he knew for a fact he didn't want it to stop.

"Shit!" he cried out at one particularly harsh pound, his eyes damn near rolling to the back of his head. His nails dug into the singer's neck, hole clenching around his cock even more, and he relished the growled out groan he got in response.

James moved a hand down, leaving Kendall's leg draped over his elbow, palming the smaller male's ass. Reaching down, he rubbed his index finger around the puckered skin, massaging it. A small "ah!" noise left the blond, the sting of it too much. He tried lifting himself up to get away from it, but couldn't, the position of his legs rendering him unable to do anything but just hang there.

"Too much," he hissed, wincing, green eyes locked onto darkened hazel ones.

The brunet nodded, moving his finger, but still gripping onto the other male's ass, squeezing. Harsh pants left both of them as the singer continued his actions, continued thrusting his hips up, continued slamming the teen down on his dick. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't "making love" by any stretch of the imagination—mostly because Kendall was pretty sure love wasn't involved in anything between them—this was fucking, pure and simple, a taking, an owning.

And fucking hell did he love it.

He wrapped his arms around the larger male tighter, pulling himself closer, water slicked chests rubbing. His fingers tangled in brunet locks, his head alongside the other male's, chin bouncing on a broad shoulder with each pound. The singer's arms went around his lean waist, holding him close, continuing to move his hips at the same relentless pace as the younger male wrapped his now released legs around his wide waist. The teen wasn't sure how much more he could take, his hole hurting, his arms tired, his lungs burning, his toes hurting from how badly they were curled. But despite the pain, the hurting, he also didn't want it to end. The way things between the two of them, it seemed like the only time they truly connected was through sex.

Then again, the only time James opened up was after, so there was that.

But there was something to be said about the way the two of them came together, the way they both somehow seemed to know how to get to each other, the right buttons to push and when, the perfect way to cause the other person more pleasure than they thought possible. It was incredible, mind-blowing, something Kendall and his cynical self believed was proof that maybe something _was_ meant to be between the two of them, maybe they _were_ supposed to be together. He'd never believed in any of that shit before, never believed in cheesy shit like "soul mates" or "made for each other", but now he did.

Especially when James hit against his prostate just so.

The blond let out a noise that definitely wasn't a scream, head rearing back and hitting the tiled wall, eyes closed. His hands slipped, fingers now in a white knuckle grip on the back of the brunet's neck, as he felt himself get closer. Using his arms as leverage, he tried pulling himself up and down as much as he could, adding to the friction, struggling to make his orgasm come sooner.

The singer's thrusts were erratic, out of rhythm, a sign he was nearly there himself. He rested his forehead in the crook of the teen's neck, harsh pants ghosting over damp skin. His arms were wrapped in a death grip around the smaller male, holding him still, pounding into him at his own pace as he took his own pleasure. A couple thrusts later, and the blond could feel the brunet coming, could feel it in the moan that was growled out against his collarbone, could feel it in the way the larger male was shaking, could feel it in the pulsing inside him as the condom was filled.

James paused for a moment, wrapping his left arm tighter around the smaller male, gripping onto the teen's side as his right arm moved. His fingers wrapped around the blond's cock, stroking him, causing Kendall to gasp then moan. The younger male started moving once again, trying to thrust up into the fist that held him, knowing it wouldn't take long. His teeth sank into his bottom lip, fingers of one hand gripping the singer's neck as the others tangled in wet, dark locks. Soon after, his orgasm hit, his come lazily spurting out onto the other male's hand, onto their stomachs.

He wasn't sure how much longer they remained like that, James still stroking him, he with his head against the tile as he came down. But soon he felt his legs being unwrapped, his body being placed on the floor, his come being washed off both of them. He leaned back against the wall, left arm still draped over the larger male's shoulder, using it to hold himself up. His knees were weak, legs barely able to hold himself up, and he felt like he finally understood the phrase "fucked out". Because, honestly, if he was asked to do anything except pass out where he stood, he'd... well, he'd fucking pass out, that's what he'd do.

"Hey." The pop star's voice was soft, a hand stroking his face, pushing wet hair back from his eyes before cupping his cheek.

Kendall slowly opened his eyes, the lids heavy and only going up halfway. The water had been shut off, the two of them in a cocoon of steam and sex as they remained in the shower. He let out a small "hmm?", all he was capable of at that moment, a small lazy smile on his face.

James looked at him with concern in his dark eyes, seeming to be fighting a smirk of his own. "You okay?"

The blond nodded his head, feeling it rubbing the tiled wall, feeling it getting heavier as fatigue starting weighing him down. "Yeah. Sleepy."

A small laugh left the brunet as he stepped closer, hand still cupping the younger male's face. "You wanna take a nap?"

More nodding, the teen feeling his eyelids drift down more, barely able to hold them up and not finding any desire to actually want to.

The pop star let out a quiet "okay", kissing the younger male's nose before turning and sliding open the shower door. Quickly getting rid of the used condom, he grabbed a towel, drying himself then the smaller male off. Although it was more like "made them less wet", but whatever. Technicality, schmechnicality.

He finally lost the battle between his eyelids and gravity, letting them fall completely closed as he slumped back against the wall. An arm wrapped around his lower back, another behind his knees, and he felt himself being lifted up, carried bridal style out the shower and into the bedroom part of the suite. His usual protests were kept silent, too tired to point out that he wasn't an invalid nor was he a li'l bitch who needed to be carried like a chick. Besides, this kept him from having to actually walk, something he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of at that moment.

Maybe he _was_ an invalid. Fucked so hard he was paralyzed from the ass down.

At least temporarily anyway.

Kendall felt his body being slightly jangled with the other male's walking, his hip bumping against chiseled abs. The motions made his entrance hurt, but he figured he could just sleep it off. He hoped he could anyway.

He was laid down gently on the bed, instantly curling up on his side as he nestled his head on the pillow, settling into a comfy position. He heard the sounds of the mattress creaking, fabric shuffling, more creaking. The sheet settled over him, covering his cooling skin up to his waist, before large arms wrapped around him, pulling him against a broad torso. A small smile played on his lips as James held him close, the brunet nuzzling into the back of his neck, kissing where it met his spine.

Exhaustion hit him hard, grabbing hold of all four limbs and pulling him down, dragging him into the pits of a deep slumber. He didn't bother fighting it, felt no desire to try and stay awake due to any important conversation, no life-altering confessions he needed to be alert for.

"Hey. Kendall?"

Or he could be wrong.

He opened his mouth to let out a response of some form, only to be beaten to it.

"Never mind." Another kiss to the top of his spine and then James settled onto the pillow, still holding the blond close.

Kendall wanted to question, wanted to ask what he was about to say, wanted to tell him it was okay and to just go ahead and speak. Only he couldn't. He'd fallen asleep soon after.

* * *

There was nothing in the world that was more obnoxious than whatever tone James had chosen as his alarm.

The singer laughed when Kendall voiced his opinion, pushing himself up on an elbow, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his right hand. James' arm moved from around his waist, reaching for the iPhone that sat on the nightstand, shutting off the electronic noise, only to have the device beep again.

"Fuckin' Logan," he muttered, fully sitting up, hazel eyes locked onto the screen.

It was the blond's turn to chuckle, rolling onto his back and stretching, arms above his head. And, okay, that was a mistake.

The singer was distracted by replying to his assistant's text, not seeing the wince that had formed on the teen's face. He was aching. Bad. His hole felt stretched beyond possibility, a burning he'd never experienced before. Not to that degree anyway. Definitely fucked out. His ass clearly needed a break, clearly needed a lotta time to recuperate from the intense amount of stretching it had gone through, the pounding it had taken. Maybe there _was_ such a thing as too much sex.

He turned his head to the right, seeing the other male standing up, getting a good look at smooth skin, well-formed muscles, and a very nice ass.

Okay, maybe there _wasn't_ such a thing as too much sex. He'd been known to be wrong.

Sitting up and putting pressure on his ass proved his first thought was right. He needed a break from being fucked.

"What'd Logan want?" he questioned, shoving a hand through his hair, pushing the dirty blond locks back from his forehead, feeling his hair stand up.

"Double-checking that I actually set a warning alarm so we have enough time to get ready to go to dinner," James replied, putting the iPhone back on the nightstand before turning to the teen. "Nice hair."

Kendall pulled at the locks, making them stick up more. "Yeah?"

The brunet smirked, placing one knee on the bed and leaning towards the younger male. "Very sexy," he stated before kissing him. "And as much as I wanna prove how arousing I find it, we gotta go."

The blond wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed by the lack of time for yet another round, but made sure the latter was what showed on his face. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak before the other male, to actually _seem_ like a li'l bitch. Being carried like one was one thing; actually _being_ one was another thing entirely.

James let out a chuckle, smirk on his face as he bent forward and kissed the younger male's nose, something that seemed to be becoming a habit—one that Kendall wasn't entirely sure he was cool with, considering how cutesy and coupley it was—before straightening into a standing position. "We gotta go in about twenty," he started, scratching absently at his stomach. "So you might wanna get up and get dressed."

Kendall cocked an eyebrow, wondering why the fuck they had been woken up so damn early. Okay, five-thirty in the evening wasn't exactly "early" by anyone's standards, but there was no need to allow for that much time to get ready to go somewhere. He could be dressed and out the door in about five minutes, if that long.

The singer turned around and headed to the bathroom, humming a tune the teen didn't recognize as he went, not seeming to have a care in the world.

Bastard.

Making sure the elder male was focused elsewhere, the younger gingerly got up off the bed, wincing slightly. He had no idea how he was gonna hide the fact that he was hurting, but his pride pretty much demanded that he figure it the fuck out, refusing to be made to look like a pussy in front of the guy he was into. Bad enough he confessed to his whiny beliefs that everyone would leave, bad enough he acted like a chick and was clingy all the time. He didn't wanna show he was physically weak as well as mentally and emotionally.

But jesus fucking christ did walking suck.

He thought back to all those years of playing hockey, of playing hurt, of being bruised up and bleeding and bandaged all to hell, yet still being out on the ice and pretending like he wasn't sore. That moment was just like all those ones. He could fake it until he believed it, until his mind was able to actually be convinced that he wasn't hurting, wasn't sore, wasn't feeling like his ass was on fire and that he was still being ripped apart.

Okay, yeah, thinking about that wasn't helping. At all.

Ignoring the pain—yet still being careful—he headed over to his duffel. Squatting down seemed to hurt a lil less than bending over, so he did that, grabbing a pair of clean boxers and socks, before standing back up again. He put those on then made his way around the room, grabbing the jeans and tee he had on earlier, staring at the "Funeral for a Friend" logo on his shirt before slipping it over his head. He had worse shirts really. Carlos had flat out told him his Mushroomhead and Slipknot tees gave him legit nightmares. Laughing at the Latino probably didn't help reassure him, but seriously, it was too funny not to.

Fully dressed—including his beanie—he sat on the bed, slipping his boots on and tying up the laces. From where he was, he could see into the bathroom, could see James in front of the mirror over the counter, fixing his hair, smoothing his bangs out and laying the strands flat.

"I like your bed head better," Kendall commented, pulling on boot number two.

The brunet smirked as he ran his hand over the top of his head, still fussing over the locks. "I'm sure you do, but I can't exactly go out in public with sex hair, can I?"

Putting his foot on the ground, the blond felt his face fall, realization setting in once again. The two of them were in a cocoon of sorts in that hotel room, a bubble, their own lil world where they could touch, fuck, kiss, even cuddle. But once they left, once they set foot in the hallway, it all had to stop. They had to be on their best behavior, had to act like they were just friends and that there was nothing going on between the two of them. Just two straight dudes hanging out.

And yet, he wasn't entirely sure if it would be better when he went home. Sure, being around the singer and not being able to touch him the way he wanted to fucking sucked ass and was harder than he thought possible, but he had no clue how bad it was gonna be when he was in Minnesota, on Tumblr or Twitter or whatever social media site, seeing rumors of the pop star out with this actress or that scantily clad starlet. He was gonna hafta see pictures of the man he wanted hanging out with females of every description, from the innocent and virginal looking to ones you weren't entirely sure were prostitutes or not. And he was just gonna hafta deal with it, just suck it up and keep quiet. Because there was no way James could come out and say that he was...

Kendall's brow furrowed. What exactly _would_ James say? That he was bi? That he wasn't seeing any of those females because he was in a relationship with a guy? Because they weren't. Not really.

Fuck, they _really_ needed to have that chat.

"You okay?"

The blond lifted his head, seeing the brunet in the doorway of the bathroom, hand on the switch to flip off the light. Concern was on his features, his own brow furrowed in a way as he seemingly tried to figure out what was going on in the other male's head.

The teen forced a small smile to his face, nodding as he pretended there was nothing heavy happening, that he wasn't, once again, trying to figure out what was happening between them. "Yeah. Just tired."

That brought the smirk back to the singer's face. He flipped the switch, the bathroom immediately darkening, before walking over. "Yeah. I really wore ya out, huh?" he joked, ruffling the younger male's hair as he walked by on his way to his suitcase, located on the other side of the room.

The smaller male glared, hand up to fix his dirty blond locks, smoothing them down a lot like how the brunet had just done in the bathroom. He squirmed in his seat, the literal pain in his ass making itself known once more, and he struggled to get to a comfy enough point where he could ignore it. "Pretty much, yeah."

Laughter sounded out behind him, a small chuckle, the larger male seeming to be amused by this, maybe even proud.

'_Easy for him to be so nonchalant about all this shit,_' his mind pointed out. '_It's not his ass that's getting repeatedly pounded into._'

And there was the throbbing pain again. Awesome.

Clearing his throat, Kendall inspected his boots, staring at a scuff mark on the right one and trying to remember where it came from. He could hear the sounds of fabric shuffling, the obvious noises associated with someone getting dressed. Which was kind of a bummer when he thought about it, since it meant James was covering himself up. Beauty like that deserved to be displayed at all times.

A possessive wave hit him then, deciding there was no fucking way that was happening and James needed to be covered up so no one else could see him naked. It was for Kendall's eyes _only_. Fuck the rest of the world. Fangirls had their imaginations and countless shirtless pics. That was enough for them.

He thought of all those dirty imagines he saw on Tumblr, the drabbles, the commentary on how they think James would be in bed, what he'd act like, the things he'd do. Now that Kendall had first hand experience, he found humor in some of the more outlandish ones, in the ones that were nothing like the real thing. Those that were a little too close to reality didn't make him too happy, but he could easily ignore that shit, too.

Footsteps sounded out and he turned his head to see the singer walking over, his own boots in his hand. His legs were covered in their usual tight dark denim, his torso hidden by a burgundy tee that seemed to leave little to the imagination. Sitting on the teen's left, he set to work putting his boots on, softly singing under his breath.

"Do you always sing everywhere?"

"Hmm? Oh. Uh." He paused to focus on doing up the laces on one boot before placing it on the floor, grabbing the second and lifted his leg up so it was bent with his ankle on the opposite knee. "I guess. Usually when I'm in a good mood."

The corner of the younger male's lips curved up as he leaned over, nudging the elder. "I put you in a good mood?"

The singer smirked back, watching his own actions as he shoved his foot into a boot. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "You do."

Pride swelled inside of Kendall, a small feeling of joy, accompanied by the realization that no one else had ever really told him that. Sure, Carlos seemed to be cheery around the blond, especially when he finally agreed to be dragged to that fateful James Diamond concert, but it was never really spoken out loud that he put anyone in a good mood. The fact that it was James himself who'd said those words made them a million times more important, a million times better and stronger and all that shit. And fuck, he never wanted that to change.

Leaning over, he kissed the singer's cheek, causing the brunet to suddenly snap his head towards him, confusion on his face.

"What was that for?"

The blond shrugged, acting like it wasn't a big deal. "Felt like it."

A smile formed on the brunet's face, now-booted and laced up foot falling onto the ground before he leaned over, kissing Kendall's lips. And just like with every kiss they'd shared before, this one quickly got heated, lips moving together in that now familiar rhythm. James' right hand slid around the back of the teen's neck, fingers sliding up and into his hair, tangling in the dirty blond locks. The younger male gripped the elder's tee, pulling him closer, the two soon laying back on the bed. The singer laid on top of the metal head, their bodies lined up from chest to thigh, forearms bracing himself on the mattress as they continued kissing, as their tongues pushed against one another, as they kept up the make-out session.

Until a loud banging sounded out from the bedroom door.

"Get your pants back on! We gotta go."

James lifted his head, literally growling out a "fuckin' Logan" in response to his assistant's muffled voice. Not that Kendall could argue, since he was busy glaring in the direction of the door.

With a sigh, the singer got up, straightening his shirt as he walked over, opening the wooden portal and greeting his friend with all the sarcastically cheery attitude one would expect from a guy who'd just been cock-blocked. Taking advantage of being momentarily ignored, the blond gingerly got up, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent any sounds of pain from coming out at the motions. But when he got to his feet and looked up, he could see the other two males looking at him.

"What?"

"You okay?" James questioned, Logan looking confused.

He wasn't gonna admit to any pain in front of just the singer, so no fucking way was he saying it in front of both of them. Quickly thinking up a cover story, he rubbed his stomach through his shirt as he walked over. "Hungry."

The assistant rolled his eyes before turning around and heading to the main door of the suite, clearly ready to leave. The singer just chuckled, remaining in place as he waited on the younger male. "You're always hungry."

Dropping his hands, the smaller male shrugged. "I'm a teenage boy. The fuck do you expect?"

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, given the way the amusement drained from the elder's face, the way his features shifted and changed into a look of realization and slight dread. "Right," he started quietly, nodding slightly as he stared at the floor. "You're a teenager."

Shit. They were back to the whole age difference thing again, back to Kendall being too young, to the blond not being able to actually be with the singer in the way they wanted to be together. Just when they'd seemed to be making progress.

"I'm legal in Minnesota," he pointed out as he reached the other male, intertwining his fingers with those on the pop star's left hand.

"We're not in Minnesota."

Okay, he had a point, but whatever. "No one's gonna know though," the teen stated. "Wasn't that the deal? No one finds out about us and you stay closeted?"

James' brow furrowed as he continued his staring contest with the carpet, not really saying anything, not responding in any way. Not exactly reassuring.

But before either male could speak, Logan came back into the room, eyebrows raised in expectation. "Uh, guys? We gotta go. Now."

The singer nodded, lifting his head and looking at his best friend before releasing the teen's hand and leaving the room. Awesome. Just fucking awesome.

The shorter brunet continued to stand there, looking just as surprised by the move as the taller blond. His lips twisted to the side, appearing like he was trying to figure out exactly what to say and how to respond, before finally speaking. "He's moody. You get used to it."

The teen let out a small snort then walked around the other male. "I'll take your word for it," he muttered as he passed, heading on his way to the main door on the suite where James stood waiting. After all, it wasn't like Kendall actually knew the guy; the singer wouldn't give him the chance to.

* * *

Chili's was located about ten minutes from the hotel—by car anyway—and the trio, along with Freight Train, were seated immediately, despite the dinner rush. The booth was located in the back corner, away from prying eyes and curious fangirls, giving them a small amount of privacy so they could chat without having to worry about being eavesdropped upon.

Not that they were actually _talking_ or anything.

A sigh left Kendall as he looked around the place, checking out the random paraphernalia that littered the walls, pretending to be interested in a vintage poster for a '86 marathon in downtown San Diego that sat on the wall to his left. But really, his mind was elsewhere. For a fucking change.

Nobody had spoken since greeting Freight Train outside the hotel suite, the foursome walking in silence to the elevator before riding it down. With James on the opposite side from Kendall. And it didn't get any better once they got in the limo, the singer on the bench along the wall with Logan. And more silence.

The blond shifted in his seat in the booth, arm accidentally brushing against the assistant on his right. The pop star was directly in front of him, staring down at the menu like it was the most fascinating thing in the entire world, ignoring everyone around him. And judging by the way his best friend was watching him with analytical eyes, it wasn't normal behavior.

"James," he started, voice cautious. "You all right, man?"

The pop star didn't bother looking up from his menu, just continued reading it, almost seeming like he had no idea what the chain restaurant could possibly serve. "Tired."

The teen furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to a random red wagon fixed above the window, acting like he was confused by its seemingly unnecessary presence, when really he was trying to figure out why the elder male was lying to his best friend. 'Cause if the guy was anything like Carlos, it meant the assistant could sniff out a lie like a bloodhound. Downside of being friends with someone your entire life.

Logan snorted, a smirk on his face. "Not surprised really. Guess you didn't get much sleep then. Too preoccupied in certain carnal activities?"

"I'm not discussing my sex life with you, Logan." His tone was flat, flipping the page in his menu, letting his friend know that the topic was closed and there was no ifs, ands or buts about it.

"Usually you don't have to. Normally I can hear them." It was clearly meant as a joke, given the way he said it, coupled with the dimpled grin on his face, but the elder male's reaction spoke otherwise.

James' head snapped up, face hard as he glared at his best friend, obviously pissed at what he'd just said, disbelief in his darkened hazel eyes. The shorter male just shrugged, shaking his head, his own features in a mask of confusion as he seemingly had no clue what the hell was the problem, why the other male was pissed, why his statement had been wrong to make.

The teen remained silent, eyes going back and forth between the puzzled assistant and the pissed off pop star. But while his own face was expressionless, his mind was in yet another downward spiral. The singer had said that flying out a fan to spend the weekend with wasn't something he'd done before, but clearly hook-ups with them weren't anything new.

'_Just another name in a long list of groupie conquests: Kendall Knight._'

Trust his brain to be cheery and totally help out in any and all negative situations.

Fucker.

Tilting his head down, he turned his attention to his menu, deciding to act like the singer had and pretend it was more fascinating that anything else that was happening around him. That, plus trying to figure out if he wanted steak or chicken fajitas seemed like a damn good distraction.

"Kendall."

His name was spoken softly, with a genuine care and concern that he couldn't help but raise his head. James was looking at him, brow furrowed, looking worried. Whatever he was about to say probably wasn't gonna be part of any conversation the blond wanted to be a part of.

"Look, I—"

"Forget it," he interrupted.

"But—"

"You really think this is the place for that conversation?" the teen questioned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table, motioning to the main part of the restaurant with his head. The singer looked out at the occupied tables, the bustling waitresses, the set of kids that ran by with a harried mom chasing them as they headed to the bathroom. He let out a sigh before turning back to the blond, obviously seeing his point. "Right now, we're just friends. What you do with your sex life isn't any of my concern." That being said, he sat back, menu still in hand, done with the topic and conversation.

The brunet looked like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to say something else and totally contradict that point, but he never got a chance. Their own waitress had showed up, in full flirtation mode, batting her overly mascara-ed eyes at the pop star, her shirt with a few less buttons done up than their dress code probably required. Kendall felt his green eyes narrow in anger, jealousy, and that same possessiveness he felt when it came to the singer, knowing exactly _why_ the skank was acting that way. Bitch could dream on if she was hoping for a hook-up or a phone number from the pop star, unless she _wanted_ a knife in one of her fake boobs.

And the blond had believed his violent thoughts had gone away and that he'd calmed down some.

Turning back to the menu, he grit his teeth, focusing his glare at the pictures of food and imagining himself carving into one of the displayed steaks rather than the blond bimbo who was licking her lips in his peripheral vision.

He felt a nudge at his foot, something hitting his toe, despite the fact that he hadn't moved the appendage. Without lifting his head, he glanced up at the brunet sitting across from him, seeing the small reassuring smile on his face, seeing the wink he gave the teen. Underneath the table, James rubbed his boot covered foot on the inside of Kendall's leg before putting his foot alongside the younger male's.

The blond bit the inside of his lip, trying to hide the smile the small action caused, trying not to make it too obvious that something was happening. Okay, so the singer might've hooked up with fans before, might've taken advantage of the readily available groupies that awaited him after every show, but all that was in the past, before he met the teen. And while in days gone by he might've flirted back with the waitress, he wasn't now. He was paying attention to the male in front of him, wordlessly reassuring him that he only had eyes for the blond.

Smug smirk on his face, Kendall turned to the waitress, placing his order, while his foot tilted up and rubbed against the singer's calve.


	34. The Emotions on the Bus Go Up and Down

_**A/N: **__Clearly I need to bribe you guys into reviewing more often, mwahaha!_

_But seriously, don't expect updates this quick. Honestly. I just happened to get this one done fast and I really loved moments in it and wanted to share it with you guys, so here it is!_

_"Metalocalypse" and Dethklok are both property of Brandon (Branden? Brendan? I dunno, there's too many ways to spell that fucking name and I'm too damn lazy to look it up) Smalls and [adult swim]. Song credit: "U Had Me at Hello" by A Day to Remember. Oh, and Travis is a reference to Jo's fake boyfriend from season 1 and Lucy's actual ex-boyfriend from season 3 and is clearly another example of the writers at BTR being lazy with names (seriously, five characters named "Jennifer". Get with it!)_

_Anyhoo, enjoy. And _**REVIEW**_! Have a Palms Woods Day! :D_

* * *

Dinner turned into a meeting. Kendall had no idea how the fuck James could stand it, how he was okay with Logan taking over and acting like a manager, explaining what was gonna happen after dinner, the bus ride to Phoenix, hotel check-in, blah blah blah... The blond felt himself go cross-eyed as the assistant droned on, causing the singer to snort into his diet coke. The shorter brunet glared at the teen, seeming to think it was his fault for the pop star's momentary lack of focus, but Kendall just popped a piece of his fajita in his mouth. He might've smirked as he did it, but whatever, didn't matter.

After dinner, the quartet headed back to the hotel, packing up their things in order to leave. James, of course, had more shit to gather, giving Kendall time to stare at the still unmade bed, a weird sense of loss hitting him. He knew eventually they'd have to leave the hotel room, that their stay there was only temporary. But it was still a lil hard to say goodbye to the bed where a whole lotta firsts between him and the pop star had taken place. First time sleeping in each others arms. First time having sex together. First time either one opened up to the other.

First time Kendall acted like a li'l bitch and whined about his step-dad.

Okay, so that last one was a memory he'd be more than happy to leave behind. But all the others...

Right, he knew that being around the bed itself wasn't required in order to remember something, especially not moments he wasn't likely to forget—except for maybe a random case of amnesia or some shit—but for some reason, he was having trouble leaving the piece of furniture and knowing he'd never see it again.

"Are you getting sentimental over a _bed_?"

Turning his head, Kendall saw James standing on his left, looking at him with twisted lips and a furrowed brow, his face a mocking question, just like his voice had been when he'd spoken. The teen scoffed, a forced out laugh following as he shook his head. "No." Wow. He didn't even sound all that convincing to himself.

"Aww, you _are_!" The singer wrapped an arm around the metal head's shoulders, shaking him lightly. "That's so cute!"

"Stop calling me cute!" He shoved off the larger male's hands, ignoring the laughter as he stepped away and grabbed his duffel off the bed. Slinging his bag onto his shoulder, he faced the elder male, seeing the smirk on his face.

"But you _are_ adorable," the brunet stated, pinching the blond's cheek.

Kendall slapped his hand away, glaring. "Fuck you."

"Maybe later. No time right now."

The blond raised an eyebrow, face full of "are you serious?", which only got him another smirk and a wink in response before the other male headed over to his suitcase.

"Time to go," the pop star pointed out, grabbing his suitcase and putting it on the ground, pulling out the handle. "C'mon, cutie."

"_Stop calling me cute!_"

The larger male pointed a finger in the air, letting out a loud, overly dramatic "never!" as he headed towards the door, pulling his suitcase behind him. The younger shook his head, letting out a small chuckle at the other male's dorkiness, despite his aggravation at that damn adjective. Holding onto his duffel strap as it laid over his shoulder, he followed the singer out the bedroom, figuring there were worse things in life to be called.

* * *

Their luggage was stored in compartments near the bottom of the bus, along with that of James' band members, and at around 7:45 or so, the vehicle was on its way to Phoenix.

Kendall was introduced properly to the band, hanging out with them in the front lounge as the bus traveled. They shot they shit, talked music and touring, all of them pretty much agreeing that while they loved being on the road and seeing the country, they couldn't wait for the end of the tour next week so they could go home and see their family, sleep in their own beds. All of them spoke of what they missed the most while away—Sunday barbecues, watching the game with their dad, their mom's home-cooking—all of them except James, who remained quiet throughout the conversation.

The blond couldn't help but watch the brunet as they sat across from each other on different couches, keeping up the ruse that the younger male was a friend of the pop star's. The teen thought of what lil amount of information he had about the singer's family, random snippets online about them being divorced and her being the head of some cosmetics company, the brief allusion James himself had made about how his family wasn't all that cuddly. He figured it meant the pop star wasn't that close to his parents, meaning he probably didn't miss them all that much.

Tilting his head down, Kendall stared at his lap, watching as he played with his fingers. He wondered if there was anything James _did_ miss, not just on the road, but at any point. He liked to think _he_ was missed, that's why he was asked to fly out to where the singer was. But it wasn't like the brunet had actually _said_ he missed the blond, just that he was needed. And being needed could cover a multitude of things, could mean it was just a physical need. Now that that had been satisfied—several fucking times—that need could be gone, could no longer matter. So chances were once he left the next day, he wasn't gonna be needed anymore, wasn't gonna be missed.

Didn't exactly make him wanna go home, even if he _did_ miss his own family.

"Dude."

Kendall felt a nudge on his right, his head turning to see Travis—AKA the worst guitarist he'd heard in a long ass time—staring at him. "What?"

"I like your hat."

Was he on drugs?

The blond cocked an eyebrow at the raven haired musician, slightly confused, wondering where the fuck that had come from and what the fuck was going on. "Uh. Thanks."

"Can I try it—?" He reached forward, hand grabbing at the beanie on the teen's head. Only he never got a hold of it. Kendall had punched him in the side.

"Dude, what the fuck?" the younger male questioned as he stood up. "Don't touch the hat."

Travis rubbed where he'd been hit, muttering out an apology, one that was ignored. Kendall had turned towards where James had previously been sitting, worried that his overreaction had painted him in a negative light. Sure, not wanting someone to touch his shit was fine, but punching a guy over touching his hat was a bit _too_ much, even he could admit.

But he didn't have to worry about James' reaction or how he perceived the situation. He was gone.

The blond looked around the front lounge, seeing the bassist chat with the keyboardist, the other guitarist at the fridge, the drummer coming out the bathroom, Logan at the table on his iPad with Freight Train eating across from him. And still no singer.

Without saying a word to anyone else, he headed to the back room of the bus, squeezing past other members of the band. The door was closed over and he knocked before announcing it was him. A muffled "c'min" was his response and he did as instructed, closing the door behind himself.

James was laying on the double bed, staring at the ceiling, arms behind his head. "Lock it, will ya?"

The blond nodded once before doing just that, then walked over to the bed. Sitting against the headboard, he pulled his legs up to his chest, elbows on his knees, hands clasped as they hung. "What's up?"

The brunet shrugged then sat up, mimicking the younger male's position. "Convo was getting a li'l too personal. Didn't wanna be a part of it."

Facing forward, the teen nodded, understanding completely, figuring it made sense given the singer's habit of shutting down and ending discussions whenever things got too close to home. "You don't talk to anyone about personal shit, do ya?"

More shrugging, the pop star now finger-combing his bangs with his left hand, elbow still on his knee. "Logan, I guess. But other than that, not really."

Kendall stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back against the headboard. A cabinet was right above him, the knob of which hit his head and he shuffled about, trying to move away from it. The action caused a slight pulling at his hole, forcing him to hide a wince. But it didn't seem like the other male was even looking at him, meaning he more than likely didn't catch any discomfort the younger one may be having. Thank fuck.

"So," the blond started, picking at a worn out spot on his jeans by his thigh. "I guess they have no idea that you're bi, huh?"

James shook his head, brow furrowed as he stared down at the burgundy comforter below them. "No. Just you, Logan, and Freight Train."

The teen bit his lip as he thought things over. Yeah, they'd repeated that same lie about Kendall being a friend from Minnesota who just flew out for a visit, but surely the band would catch on eventually. Hell, even the fandom had their moments of screaming about how gay James was—especially when "That Guy from Minnesota" was brought up—so surely his own band, who toured with him most of the year, would pick up on li'l clues or hints about the pop star's sexuality.

Then again, fandom comments were partially wishful thinking and there was always the chance that James was better at hiding things than Kendall knew. Even the blond hadn't been entirely certain of the brunet's sexuality when they'd first met. It wasn't until he had the guy's tongue down his throat that he had any sorta clue and even then he wasn't one-hundred percent as to which team he played for.

Which, apparently, was both.

Turning to the singer, he took in the hard lines of his face, the worry lines around his eyes, the wrinkle in his forehead. Shit had gotten serious again and the teen figured he should take advantage of it while he could, before they got distracted by more carnal activities, as they were prone to do.

"Won't they think it's a li'l weird that we're back here alone with the door locked?" he questioned, trying to point out the obvious. "Won't they figure it out?"

The singer turned to him, confusion still on his face. "What? That I'm kinda into dudes?"

Okay, not entirely what he meant, but it was a start. "Well, that, plus. Ya know."

More confusion. "No, I don't."

Clearly this was gonna be a li'l harder than the blond originally thought it would be. "Ya know. Us and—" He trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish that statement. Which really was the perfect fucking segue for that DTR convo they _still_ hadn't had. "What _is_ going on between us?"

A harsh sigh left James, his shoulders slumping, his head tilting down to stare at the space between their two bodies. "Can't we talk about this later?"

And once again, the singer was trying to put shit off. But Kendall was fucking sick of it, was sick of everything being put off, of being distracted with sex every time he tried to have this discussion. Part of the reason why he'd agreed to the trip was to get answers, was for them to talk shit over and figure out what was going on between the two of them. And fuck-dammit, it was gonna fucking happen. And _now_.

"No," he replied, firmly. "We can't. I'm leaving tomorrow."

James breathed out a swear as he turned his head, facing towards the door that led to the main part of the bus. A moment of silence took place before he let out a small chuckle. "Fuck, we're something, huh?" he started, corner of his lips twisted up in an amused smirk. "Both really like each other, but can't actually _say_ it, but, man, do we have great sexual chemistry. Normal people would just say 'I like you, you like me, let's be in a relationship'."

The teen's eyebrows shot up at what the pop star had just said, wishing he'd caught it on tape so he could play it over and over, like that voicemail or the "guys, give it up for Kendall" audio file he had. But since he hadn't, he just had to hope he'd always remember it.

Not that he felt like he'd ever be able to forget it.

"So, you wanna be in a relationship with me?"

The brunet turned to the blond, eyes turned down at the sides, an apology all over his face. The younger male had flashes of his second James Diamond concert, when the singer was in the crowd and had given him the same look, the same wordless "I'm sorry" as he walked away, singing to the fans.

A lump formed in his throat, a small sense of panic and unease pooling in his stomach, making him shuffle in his spot again. He wasn't gonna like what the elder male was about to say, he just knew it.

"I can't come out."

Kendall nodded, lips pursed as he looked down at his lap, seeing his fingers twisting together. He'd kinda seen it coming, had known that at some point, those words would be spoken. It just sucked to actually hear them.

"'Cause of your image," he figured, knowing it was important to keep it up. It was why Logan kept nagging at them, why the assistant kept telling them to cool it and behave, so the pop star wasn't unintentionally outted and he remained the sex symbol he'd always been.

"Partially," James admitted, finger-combing his hair once more, eyes fixated on the door again. "But mostly because of my mom." He let his legs hang open, knees hooked inside his elbows, clasped hands hanging between the limbs. "Nothing matters but your image, how people perceive you. For her, bisexuals are sexual deviants, greedy perverts who can't make up their minds and will fuck anything just to fuck. Having one for a son would be her worst nightmare since it would fuck up the perfect image she's spent her entire life working so hard to build."

The teen's eyes roamed the larger male, seeing how hard his body was, how tense, despite the fact that his head was hanging. He couldn't imagine having a mom who wouldn't accept what he was, couldn't accept some minor part of him, all because it would affect her own image. He'd put his own mother through so much shit over the past few years, had given her hell for things that weren't even her fault, had worried her sick over being missing for days at a time, only to scream at her to back the fuck off and leave him alone. Yet she still loved him, still accepted him as her son, still cared.

Apparently he'd gotten lucky in the mom department. He hated that he couldn't say the same for the other male.

Crossing his legs at the ankles, he kept his eye on the larger male as he spoke. "But if it weren't for your mom, you'd come out?"

The singer shrugged, lifting his head. "I dunno." He turned and looked at the younger male. "I don't exactly think I'm boyfriend material, since I've never actually _been_ one."

The corner of the teen's lips curved up in a small smile. "Me neither."

Silence descended over the pair as they both sat there, staring straight ahead. Shit was deeper than Kendall had thought it was, the elder male remaining closeted for more than just marketing purposes. The woman who'd given birth to him wouldn't accept him if he were anything other than a perfectly normal straight male, forcing him to hide who he was outta fear of rejection and hatred. But it explained a lot about James, why he was the way he was, why he'd done what he'd done. Well, to a degree anyway. But keeping Kendall a secret, avoiding deep conversations, not wanting to talk about his family or his past or any shit like that... it made sense. The blond himself had had the thought and belief that opening up and letting someone know you meant letting them close to you, forming a relationship of some form, a bond. And the deeper and stronger that bond became, the more prevalent that person was in your life, the more important. And when someone was that important, you wanted to tell people about them.

Which James couldn't do.

Kendall thought over everything he'd learned about the other male that weekend, from the panic he'd felt at their first kiss and how he'd actually _felt_ something, something he wasn't used to, to his admission that talking about emotions wasn't something he could do, to explaining his mom's disapproval over his sexuality. All that shit, yet somehow, the teen was still able to be by his side.

"Look," he started slowly, noticing the slight twist to the singer's head that meant he was listening. "Whatever you wanna do, I'm on board." That got the brunet to fully turn to him. "You wanna come out, I'll support you. You wanna stay in the closet and we do a relationship on the DL, tell people we're friends, or actually just _be_ friends, that's fine, I'll do that. I'll back whatever decision you make and go along with it."

"Fuck, Kendall." The words were a whisper, the tone one of disbelief, that the brunet was having trouble actually buying that someone would say something like that to him. He turned his body towards the younger male, leaning his forehead against the other's, swallowing hard. "I don't deserve you."

The blond let out a snort of disbelief, hands cupping the other male's face, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "No. I don't deserve _you_."

He scrunched up his face, a hand reaching around to hold the back of the teen's neck. "Eh, agree to disagree then."

"That works," the younger male agreed with a smile, green eyes locked onto hazel ones, seeing the seriousness coming back to the elder's face.

"Stay with me?" he requested, voice quiet, reluctant, as he swallowed hard again, eyes trained downward. "Please. I need you."

Kendall rubbed his thumbs over smooth skin, eyes solemn as he made a vow in return. "I'm not going anywhere."

James let out a shaky breath, body seeming to relax in relief, as if that promise had just taken away all of his worries. But they both knew it was only temporary, that within a few hours, the teen would be on a plane back to Minnesota and the singer would be physically alone once more. But the blond would be damned if anything tore them apart metaphorically, determined to live up to his earlier words and have the other male's back no matter what. At that point, he was James', and no one else's, and that's the way things were gonna stay.

Determined to prove himself with actions as well as words, he moved his head and connected their lips, kissing the singer deeply. The elder male immediately started kissing back, hand still cupping the back of his neck, the other resting on the blond's shoulder. Their lips slanted together as they moved closer together, bodies pressed against one another in a need to get close and stay that way.

James' hands moved, grabbing hold of Kendall's hips, and as he sat back against the headboard, he pulled the smaller male with him. The teen straddled the singer's waist, their lips still connected, his hands now threading through brunet locks as his hips moved against the other male's. The elder male cupped the younger's ass, squeezing, his own pelvis moving up and down as they ground together, their make-out session getting more heated, as it was prone to do.

The sounds of fabric shuffling, lips smacking, and harsh breathing was soon accompanied by another sound from outside the room, acoustic guitar floating in from the front lounge. At least Kendall was pretty sure that's what it was supposed to be. It sounded god-fucking-awful.

Pulling away from the singer's lips, he turned his head, trying to hear it better. The brunet simply moved to the younger male's neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point, hands moving up and down the smaller male's back. And while normally those actions would send shivers down Kendall's spine and blood to his cock, he couldn't get in the mood, too distracted by the shit-tacular racket coming from the front lounge.

He put his hands on the other male's shoulders, pushing away as he leaned back. "Stop, stop, stop."

The singer lifted his head, brow furrowed in confusion. "What? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, I can't do this with that godawful music playing." Moving off the brunet's lap, the blond stood up, straightening his tee around his waist.

The other male still looked lost as he sat on the bed, hands landing randomly on his lap. "Where you going?"

"I gotta rescue that guitar. It's clearly being tortured." With that, he headed to the door, unlocking it before sliding it open and heading to the front lounge. He wasn't surprised to find it was Travis who'd been playing—in the loosest definition of the word—and didn't hesitate to grab the instrument and pick away from him. "You poor thing," he told the guitar as he turned around and went back to the room in the rear, ignoring the protests behind him.

The door shut and locked behind him once more, he sat on his previous spot on the bed, legs stretched out before him, guitar on his lap. "Your guitarist _really_ sucks, dude," he stated matter-of-factly, beginning to tune the instrument in the hope that when it was played, it wouldn't sound like it was in pain.

"Yeah, so I've been told." James finger-combed his hair, fixing it where Kendall had just messed it up. "You gonna play for me when you've tuned it up?'

The blond turned to the brunet, eyebrow raised, still plucking at a string and turning the knob. "Why?"

"You owe me."

The teen snorted, looking back down at the instrument as he worked on the next string. "How you figure that?"

"Well," the singer started, dropping his hands so they slapped against his lap. "I marked you like _I_ promised, so now you hafta play for me like _you_ promised. Deal's a deal."

Shit. He had a point. And while the blond didn't actually agree that hickey equaled song, he figured there was nothing else to do. Okay, not true, but making out generally led to sex and for the first time since he'd met the elder male, he was actually hoping to avoid that.

Weird really.

He let out a sigh, followed by an exacerbated "fine", tuning the last string. "What song?"

"Don't care," James answered, leaning back, arms folded behind his head. "Just play."

Not helpful at all really.

Guitar tuned and sounding like an _actual_ guitar, Kendall strummed it, thinking up a song he knew how to play that would suit the situation, that wouldn't require screaming vocals or spoke about anything negative that would ruin the nice li'l happy bubble they were in once more. The perfect one sprung to mind and he started playing, small smile on his face as he watched his hands move over the strings, singing along.

"_What have I gotten into this time around? I know that I had sworn I'd never trust anyone again, but I didn't have to. You had me at hello—_"

He made the mistake of looking up, of looking at the other male. James was watching him, completely enthralled with his playing, with his singing, a look of total awe on his face. The teen had that same earlier feeling of being the famous musician and the pop star was the star-struck fan. The brunet's lips were parted, jaw slack, hazel-green eyes full of so many emotions that the blond couldn't even begin to figure them out.

But the moment felt bigger than that, felt like more than just the singer being impressed by his playing. It felt like that cliché rom-com movie moment. Cheesy, soft music playing in the background, the two leads with their eyes locked, right before one—or sometimes both—of them makes that all important confession, saying those three little words that held so much weight.

"James, c'mere please!"

Fucking hell, Logan's timing _sucked_.

Apparently the singer agreed, muttering out the now-cliche'd "fuckin' Logan" that he tended to use when the assistant interrupted. He gave the blond a "be right back" before getting up and heading to the door, unlocking it and leaving the back room.

Kendall let out a sigh as he put the guitar to the side, leaning back against the headboard with his hands on top of his beanie-covered head. So close. So fucking close to saying those words, that all-important phrase. He honestly had no idea how desperate he'd been to hear it from the other male, how badly he needed those words to reassure him that all was good, that they were gonna make it, even after he went home. But god, it was like an ache in his soul that he couldn't fix, not until he heard it.

Which really was a terrible fuckin' reason to wanna hear those words, or wanting to say them. No, they should be spoken because they were meant, because that person needed the other to know how they felt, not because it was needed to be heard. He wanted James to tell him how he felt because he meant it and because it truly was how he felt, not because Kendall was desperate to be told it.

Because that was gonna happen, what with the singer's long history of open up and telling what he was thinking and feeling.

He let out a long, harsh exhale, smearing his hands over his face before dropping them onto his lap. Taking advantage of the free time, he looked around the back room, taking in the covered windows on either side, the mirror on the wall to the right of the door, the flatscreen TV on the opposite side.

Leaning to the left, he looked out the open doorway, seeing down the bus, finding Logan and James by the bathroom. The assistant was talking animatedly, hands moving for emphasis, while the singer was standing there with his shoulders slumped and his head back, mouth slack as his closed eyes were aimed towards the ceiling. Clearly whatever the shorter male was saying wasn't something the taller was interested in hearing.

Kendall laughed at the scene as he sat up, recognizing the sarcastic body language as something he did himself, usually whenever Bitters was bitching at him. He figured the two friends would be talking for a while, so he grabbed the remote, switching the TV on and flipping through the channels until he came across the start of his favorite cartoon. Putting the remote back, he got comfy on the bed, adjusting the pillows behind his back and stretching his legs out in front of him.

James returned to the back room, yelling at Logan to "calm his tits" about... well, whatever they'd been talking about. The assistant starting explaining about how that was not only physically impossible, but also anatomically not gonna happen consider his lack of breasts, but he got the door shut on him before he could really get going.

Score one for Diamond.

The brunet crawled up the bed, sitting next to the blond, turning his attention to the TV. His brow furrowed as the intro to the show started, the cartoon characters riding a motorcycle, the sounds of a metal song—complete with growled out vocals—filling the small room. "What're you watching?"

"'Metalocalypse'," the teen replied, smile on his face. "It's about this metal band called Dethklok that are supposed to save the world. Or bring about its end. It's not really clear. Fuckin' kick ass music though."

The singer nodded, brow still drawn. "Dethklok, huh?"

The teen turned his head and attention to the other male, one eyebrow raised in question. "Yeah."

"Like the shirt you had on that night."

Both eyebrows went up, surprise hitting him, a small shock that he had forgotten about that. He remembered the singer bringing it up, explaining that people kept showing him pictures of the teen onstage and that was how he recalled the tee he'd been wearing.

"Yeah," he responded, adjusting his beanie on top of his head. "That was the shirt."

More nodding before the brunet shifted, reaching into his jeans pocket. He pulled out his iPhone and handed it to the other male with a "here".

Kendall cleared his throat, looking down at the dark screen. "Yeah, uh. I already saw your lockscreen."

James wasn't looking at him, eyes seeming to be fixated on the screen. "Look at the home screen."

Confusion washed over the younger male, but he did as suggested, hitting the home button before sliding and unlocking the smartphone. The picture of the two of them at the meet-n-greet disappeared, giving way to a different photo altogether.

Holy. Shit.

The blond stared at the image on the screen, past all the icons and the apps, past all the clutter covering pieces of it. It was one he had memorized every detail of, one he knew all to well, one that was forever burned into his brain. Because he'd lived it. Because he'd found and downloaded every single image from every single angle of that moment in time. Because he looked at them when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was unsure of what had happened, when he was certain there was something there.

He almost couldn't believe it, that that was the picture the singer had as his phone background. But there it was in all its pixelized glory: himself onstage with James, their hands clasped, their eyes locked, the pop star's mic up to his lips as he sang to a totally enraptured teen. A teen in a Dethklok shirt.

Green eyes snapped up, seeing the brunet sitting there with his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped around his legs. The elder male had his eyes focused on his lap, his head tilted down, like he wasn't entirely sure what the younger's reaction was gonna be and he didn't really wanna see it firsthand in case it was anything bad. But how could it be? Surely this was a sign that the pop star had had some sorta feelings for the teen before, that they'd been there since their first meeting. Or maybe the pic was found and put as his background after their second meeting, after their reunion at the meet-n-greet, after their make-out session in the dressing room. But either way, it seemed like some sorta proof that Kendall wasn't just a fan, not in the singer's eyes anyway.

"James—"

"I know. It's weird, right?" the brunet interrupted, dropping a hand to play with the comforter, fingers pulling and rubbing at a loose piece of fabric. "Kinda stalkery to have a pic of someone you barely even know as your back—"

"You're kidding, right?" the blond returned the favor, cutting the other male off. He wanted to point out how millions of people around the world had the pop star's image as their own cell background, how Tumblr was full of screencaps of whatever latest picture had come out of James Diamond that had immediately been turned into lockscreens, that it would be pretty hypocritical if the singer couldn't have someone as his background, too.

But instead of saying any of that shit, he simply pulled his own iPhone out of his pocket and tapped the elder male's arm with it. "Here."

James took it, lighting up the screen, eyes flipping to the younger male when he realized he hadn't been handed his own device back.

"It's our hands during the second meet-n-greet photo," Kendall explained. "And if you go to the home screen, you'll see my background is a pic of you onstage singing to me."

He watched as the elder male did just that, as his thumb slid across the screen to unlock it, bringing the home screen into view. "I have an app?"

Okay, not what the blond figured the brunet would focus on, but all right then.

"I have _several_ apps."

Kendall snatched his phone back, locking it immediately before shoving it in his pocket. "Whatever."

James just chuckled, taking his own iPhone back and putting it to the side. "Okay, so now that we've established we're a good looking couple, how 'bo—"

"Whoa," the blond interrupted, mind fixated on one word. "Couple?"

Something flashed in hazel eyes before quickly disappearing. "Pair? Whatever, doesn't matter."

Except it did. Only the blond never got a chance to say so. The brunet leaned back against him, settling himself against the smaller male's lean frame, head and attention turned to the TV.

"How 'bout you explain this show to me and tell me why the band is playing while everyone's being shot and killed by lasers. That's really gross, by the way. Holy shit, that guy was cut in half!"

The teen let out a laugh, arms wrapping around the elder male, lips pressed to the top of his head. There was a good chance his favorite cartoon was now gonna be forever ruined by the memory of this very moment, but as it was happening, he decided he didn't care. It was worth it just to be able to hold James in his arms.


End file.
